


The Mark

by jhoom



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: F/M, Soulmate Tattoos, background liara/javik, soulmate!AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-01
Updated: 2016-08-31
Packaged: 2018-05-17 16:58:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 43,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5878507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jhoom/pseuds/jhoom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They appear the first time you travel through a Mass Relay - a soulmate tattoo. This unique little marking, somewhere on your body, that will tie you to your true partner with an identical tattoo.<br/>If you can find them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> just a short soulmate!au i'm working on for shakarian - i anticipate it being 1-3 parts. i will probably combine mass effect 2/3 (at least that's my plan right now...)
> 
> as always, feel free to hit me up on tumblr @jhoomwrites

Garrus remembers when he first got his tattoo.  He was traveling with his sister to the Citadel to visit their father.  He was watching from a window as the ship approached the Mass Relay.  It was beautiful watching the jump.  He was so transfixed he barely noticed the slight stinging on the back of his hand.

Later, it's his sister who will remind him to check.  She's been proudly showing off the yellow triangles peppering the inside of her cowl for a few years now.  She's excited to see Garrus' tattoo.  He was young, maybe six, so he'd completely forgotten until then.  He shows the back of his right hand to his sister.

It's two circles - one blue, one red - connected in the middle, a deep purple in the space they overlap.  His sister is confused and he asks why.  She explains that Turian tattoos are almost always geometric, only one color.  His isn't really either, doesn't fit any pattern she knows.

So he asks what that means.  She just shrugs and says she has no idea.  

It turns out that his sister's right.  His tattoo is pretty unusual among Turians.  No one really knows what it could mean since it's so unique.  His mother tells him not to worry so much about it.  The significance of it won't matter once he finds his mate.

He smiles and says it doesn't bother him.  It does.

Garrus ends up being self-conscious about it, especially in Turian circles, and wears gloves almost all the time to hide it.

\- - - -

Humans are weird about the soulmate tattoos.  Each species' images manifest in different ways.  The Turians are single-colored and geometric.  Salarians have ones that almost look like puzzle-pieces or the grooves of a key, intricate around the edges in barely perceptible ways.  Krogan ones are muted in color but bold in pattern, .  The Asari tend to have ones that reflect the species they'll be bonding wtih.

Humans, though, have some of the most intricate patterns.  They're bold and colorful and ephereal.  They're never simple or plain like Turian ones, don't have a consistent type of pattern like Salarians.  Each one is so _unique_ that it appears almost bawdy to outsiders.  

They also show them off a lot.  

Even the ones in risque places that would make an Asari blush to show off.  Most species aren't exactly _shy_ about theirs, but to make a point of having them seen by absolutely everyone all the time...  It borders on some sort of breach of an unspoken impropriety the galaxy has lived in for so long before humans appeared.

Which makes Commander Shepard an oddity.  The military is obviously more conservative in dress, but he's spotted Alenko's golden-pink sunset peaking out from he edge of his back collar.  Chakwas' supernova dances across her forearm, only visible when she rolls up her sleeves to eat.  Neither Joker's nor Ashley's are visible, but neither is shy about it.  (Joker's apparently is all over his abs and, despite his bravado, he's too embarrassed to show anyone.  Ashley doesn't have one.  She knows damn well what that means.)

Shepard's isn't visible.  But she deflects any attempts to question her about it.

Garrus doesn't really care.  He has a passing curiosity in it, but he's perfectly content to mind his own business.  (It's not like he wants to share his, either.  There might not be any other Turians on board, but they'd no doubt be clued in enough to know how _strange_ his is.)

So Garrus goes on not really even thinking about it.  Not caring about Shepard's (or anyone else's) tattoo.  

Until he cares _a lot_.

\- - - -

It shouldn't have meant anything.  To most of the crew, it _didn't_ mean anything. 

The ground mission had been simple enough.  Absolutely nothing special.  But Shepard had hit her head.  Red blood, metallic smelling, flows from the wound and trails down her neck.  She groans when she notices it, not from pain but annoyance, and uses her hand to keep pressure.

They're in the shuttle, still a good fifteen minutes from being able to get to the med bay.  It's not serious, but Williams ignores Shepard's protests and moves her hand away to get a look.  Garrus holds the med kit while they clean it up - it really isn't that bad, only bleeding so much since it's a head wound (or so the human women assure him).

Once the blood is almost gone, Williams barely pauses to acknowledge it.  "Nice tat.  Didn't think you were the type to get ink."

Shepard just grunts.  "Military's always willing to get inked up."

And that's that.  Discussion over.  

Except that's not it.  Because sure, it may not look like human soulmate tattoos.  Not at all.  Easily mistaken for the type humans are wont to get (he's seen people turn their whole body into a canvas, using their soulmate tattoo as the base for something truly breathtaking).  

And if it weren't for the matching mark on Garrus' hand, it would be just as unremarkable as Ashley thinks it is.

\- - - -

He doesn't say anything.  Of course he doesn't.  He's never been open about _his_ mark, and Shepard has never been forthcoming about _hers_.  And it's weird.  He doesn't want to admit it, but it is.  He grew up hearing stories of the First Contact War.  His people haven't forgotten, and he doubts hers have either.  This... this just isn't _possible._

While he broods about it, he thinks about how well he and Shepard mesh both in the field and during down time.  It's always been an easy friendship, partnership, mentorship... whatever they are in whatever situation, everything's just clicked between them without an issue.

But Garrus still keeps quiet.  He knows his own reasons for not broadcasting his own situation.  Whatever Shepard's are, he doesn't want to intrude.  

\- - - -

Alenko and Liara both pursue Shepard with surprising vigor.  They must know they don't _match_ , but he understands the draw she has.  Shepard makes an uneasy joke about it to him and Tali.  Asks if either of them are harboring crushes on her, too.  Tali laughs and assures her that of course they aren't.  Garrus doesn't say anything, silently leaving it up to both of them to decide.

(But he does notice the way Shepard had looked at him when she said it.  Doesn't break eye contact with him even as she laughs with Tali.)

In the end, she starts something with Alenko.  

\- - - -

Eventually she comments on the distance he's put between them.  At first Garrus wants to deny it, but there's a certain futility to it.  So he shrugs and apologizes, no offer of an explanation.  She doesn't ask for one.  

He makes an extra effort to make things the way it was before.  It seems to work.

\- - - -

His blood boils after Saleon.  He wants to snarl accusations at her, say things he knows they both will regret.  Somehow he manages to just quietly seethe, pointedly ignoring her until his temper calms.  

She ignores him too.  Lets him cool down.  He almost wonders if she's doing it on purpose, as though she _knows_ the things he'll yell at her.  Adds that to the list of things about her that infuriate him.

His anger diffuses as suddenly as it had appeared.  He gives it up, grudgingly acknowledges that maybe she was right.  They talk about it briefly, the most clipped conversation they've had to date, but then allow things to fall back into place.

\- - - -

Maybe the stakes and their ever impending death make it easy to ignore the fact that the universe seems to have some sort of opinion about the two of them getting together.  

He's always appreciated how well they work in tandem, and as things get more difficult, he's glad Shepard's seemed to pick up on it too.  She takes him on nearly every mission, and it's soothing in a primal sort of way that he's there to watch her six.

It scares him a little, actually.

\- - - -

They say the tattoos are just the beginning.  They help match you with your soulmate.  But after an actual bond develops between you, it connects you a little more.  Intangible, yet _there_.

Garrus had never given it much thought until his hand started stinging on the Citadel.  The clear and present danger that his (supposed) mate is in is a constant itch.  It puts him on edge to a point where he can see Shepard considering sending him back to the ship.  He's pretty sure the glare he directs at her could level a small building.  She hesitates just a moment, then seems to give in.  

_Fine, you can stay._

\- - - -

If he thought his hand hurt on the Citadel, it's _nothing_ to how it burns weeks later.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I mentioned I wasn't sure if this would be a two or three part story. I thought I'd be able to combine ME2 and ME3 pretty well... and then Garrus decided he wanted to spend a lot of time on Omega. Which in hindsight makes a lot of sense. I just wasn't expecting it when I started this chapter. So... ME3 will get its own chapter. Still haven't decided if I'm gonna go tragedy at the end (that is kinda my MO...)
> 
> Please note that I'm taking some liberties with the story as presented in the games. I haven't played the games in years (like... literally years), so I'm going off of memory for most of it. And some things I might need to tweak slightly just to fit in with this soulmate!au I'm working with. So if you see things out of order or slightly changed, just assume it's deliberate (I did have to make a couple amendments to the game to have things flow better).
> 
> Also thanks to the commenter who noted my using shorter scenes towards the end. I write a lot of stories in this style and I hadn't really noticed that I tend to do that in most of them (long exposition type stuff at the beginning, shorter pieces later on). Doesn't mean I'm necessarily going to change that, but I like knowing what my writing style is so I can control it and use it to tell the story more effectively. So thanks :)
> 
> Don't forget to visit me on tumblr [@jhoomwrites](http://jhoomwrites.tumblr.com) :)

When they called to tell him about Alchera, he didn't pick up.  He already knew.  Hearing it would just make it worse, somehow.  

The mark on his hand has almost completely faded by the time the memorial service happens.  Garrus struggles through it as stoically as possible.  He leaves as soon as it's considered socially acceptable.  

Which is apparently too soon, because his omnitool pings again and again with messages.  Later he'll read them.  Ignore Liara's scolding for leaving early and Tali's concerned questions and Kaidan's generic condolences and and and.  It's all words and words are the last thing he needs right now.

\- - - -

Three days later he books a flight to Omega.

\- - - -

Garrus isn't even sure what he's doing here.  He's mourning.  Obviously.  But _what_ exactly he's mourning, he couldn't say.  Yes, his commander died.  She was a good friend, too.  That alone is enough to lose.  When he allows himself to drink (which is rarely, not after the first time and that bar fight), part of him is able to acknowledge that it's something more.  

Not love, no.  That would be silly and an overly romantic way of viewing this.  More like... possibility.  The _possibilities_ that had died with Shepard are immense, and that more than anything else is what sits heavy in his heart.

\- - - -

He doesn't bother with gloves anymore.  The mismatched team he assembles takes note, but no one comments on it.  The tattoo is still there, a dull grey instead of the once vibrant blue, red and purple.  Almost like it's scabbed over.  Anyone who sees it would know what it means, so they don't ask.

But sometimes... and it's crazy, he _knows_ it's crazy... sometimes, he happens to look at it.  And it's not grey.  It's almost like it used to be.  Still faded, but no longer the colorless eyesore it usually is.  He'll stare and stare at it, sure it's a trick of the light or his over-worked mind.  Eventually, it dissolves back into shades of grey.  

It doesn't happen all the time.  Just... _sometimes_.  

\- - - -

Everything goes to shit pretty quickly.

He had thought he was building something here on Omega.  Making progress, both on his own misery (constant and pulsing, even at times when it's muted in the background) and on this shithole of a station.  But then it's a lot of running and explosions and trying not to die.  

Maybe it's the adrenaline that keeps it hidden at first, but when he gets a second to actually _breathe_ he notices the burning on his hand.  It seizes up around the trigger of his gun and he has to all but pry it loose.  Although it reminds him of... that time (his mind skirts around the word _Alchera_ , even now), he dismisses it as stress.  He needs to get back to the base and check on the rest of his team.

When he gets back to the base, he nearly loses it.  He fucked up.  He _really_ fucked up.  He's trapped and he got his squad members killed and his hand fucking _hurts-_

Garrus takes two slow breaths.  In and out.  In and out.

Alright.  Freak out over.  Time to get to work.

He knows he has some time, not much, but enough to prepare.  So he starts with the bodies of his dead team.  Gingerly, he puts them together and covers them.  Bows his head and says an old turian prayer his mother had taught him when his grandfather had died.  He doesn't quite remember the words, but he hopes the feeling behind it will do.  If only he had the time to give them the type of laying to rest they deserve.  But it's something, at least.

(The pain in his hand settled into a dull ache.  He notices the color's back.  No time to do more than a quick double take before he's back at it.)

Then he switches to his own needs.  He shouldn't have come back to the base, if he's honest with himself.  But he couldn't know for sure he'd been betrayed until he came back.  Had to see if anyone was still alive...  

But now he's trapped.  He seals off the tunnels below the base.  At least now they can only get at him from the bridge.  The bottleneck will buy him time.  And yes, he is aware that all he's doing is buying himself time.

There's plenty of ammo.  He grabs that first, staking it neatly by the window upstairs.  Next he grabs some medigel, even though he doubts he'll need it.  He suspects that when things get bad, they'll go bad quick.  And finally, he sorts through everyone's personal stashes and grabs all the stims he can find.  There's enough to keep him wired for a few weeks, probably.  

Garrus is determined to last as long as possible, but realistically he doesn't think he'll make it more than a few days.  

When there's nothing left to do, he grabs a ration pack and perches by the window.  Any moment now they'll start trying to start whiddling away at his defenses.

(The ache in his hand has ebbed.  The color's still there.  If anything, it's brighter than the last time he looked.)

The first few waves are actually pretty gruesome.  They send a whole mess of mercs at him.  Luckily he's a helluva good sniper.  One by one he drops them, already fixing his sight on the next target before the last one even falls.  It's actually so repetitive and mind numbing that when they stop coming he's not even sure how much time has passed.

It's the time in between that worries him.  The adrenaline starts to wear off and his mind wanders.  

(The colors are so bright now - brighter than even when Shepard was alive.  He sighs.  At first he thought he was imagining it.  Given how dire his situation currently is, he wonders if now it just shows he's one step closer to Shepard.  That much closer to death...)

They keep prodding at his defenses.  The waves are smaller.  Manageable.  A distraction while they mount whatever final assault they're planning.  

He sighs deeply.  It's fine.  Really.  How surprising can it really be when you form a band of do-gooder mercs that you end up gunned down.  He can't go on much longer anyway.  Bullets he's got, but his eyes are starting to burn.

Maybe that's why he doesn't believe what he's seeing.  Garrus has to blink several times just to make any sense of it.  He clips her armor just to be sure she's even real, not a ghost or hallucination.

Then she's standing in front of him and he just... well, he doesn't know what to do about that.  His heart's in his throat and his empty stomach is churning.  It's absurd of course, for her to be back.  But at the same time, he knows beyond a shadow of a doubt that before him stands none other than Commander Jane Shepard.

\- - - -

The missile to the head thing hurts.  Like a bitch.  He'd half expected to die, and wouldn't have that been ironic timing.  But Chakwas is an exceptional doctor.  That's probably the only reason he doesn't bleed out and actually has some semblance of a face left when she's done.

She very sternly tells him to get some rest.  They both know he'll ignore her.  

Shepard's alive and he's alive and he just has to _see_ her.  

The smile she gives him makes him think that, at least for a second, the feeling's mutual.

\- - - -

It's just so _easy_ to work with Shepard again.  They work seamlessly together and it brings him a type of peace he realizes he's been lacking for the past couple years.

Which is absolutely ridiculous.  They're on a _suicide mission_ and he's just happy to be along for the ride.  

It's pathetic really.

Garrus is so caught up in the excitement of being back on the Normandy and with Shepard that it takes him a while to notice the changes.  It's not like the "good ol' days" when they were chasing Saren.  

Cerberus claims they did nothing to change Shepard, but she's got a darker streak now.  A little more trigger happy, less likely to avoid conflict.  She takes every opportunity for a fight and tends be just on this side of brutal.  The good's still there, but it's harder to see sometimes.  Only there in the broad strokes, not the fine details.

He supposes death can do that to a person.  Crush their optimism and need to do right by everyone when it wasn't done by them.  

There's a new darkness in him too, boiling just under the surface.  He's able to smooth it over, most of the time, and be as snarky as he ever was.  But there's an undercurrent of _rage_ and _guilt_ for what happened on Omega.  It bleeds through into the day to day, just like Shepard's inner demons.

Vaguely, he thinks that it's their responsibility to either pull each other back up to the light or help each other spiral down further into the darkness.  He quietly debates which one he'd prefer.

\- - - -

Joker sees his tattoo.

He was in the cockpit, helping implement some new modifications Miranda had asked about.  A panel needed to be removed so he could access some of the ship's hardware.  Too delicate of a process, he'd had to take off his gloves.  He neglects to put them back on immediately, not really caring since there's a job to do.  

When he turns to ask Joker something, the human's eyes are locked onto his right talon.  There's recognition there, and Garrus sees the second it turns from just some vague recollection to knowing damn well where he's seen that mark before.  

Their eyes meet.  Garrus tries to remain neutral, just barely allowing a small twitch of his mandibles.  

"Does she know?"

There's a moment - just a few seconds, really - where he considers playing dumb.  But instead he just looks away, distracting himself by typing into the console.  "No."

"You going to tell her?"

Carefully chewing on the word first, he simply says, "No."

He can almost  _hear_ what Joker's thinking, probably because he's had years to think over the same questions.  It's all just a big, continuous game of  _What if What if what if_.  

But there's enough respect for both Garrus and Shepard that instead of butting in, he just grinds his teeth in frustration.  "You might want to."  And that's that.

\- - - -

After Horizon and Kaidan's complete disbelief, he finds Shepard drinking in Starboard Observation.  Silently, she grabs a bottle of the dextro stuff for him and pours him a generous amount.  

"I don't get why he won't trust me," she mutters into her glass before polishing off the rest.  She slams the glass down.  " _You_ trust me, don't you?"

"Of course, Shepard."

She seems to try and stop herself from saying it, but the words come out anyway.  "How come?  You just dropped everything and came back."  

It was easy, of course.  Just as he knew the moment she died, he apparently had been aware of her resurrection as well.  Garrus trusted her because he _knew_ she hadn't faked her death, as Kaidan had implied.  He _knew_ that this was really Shepard, not some clone or poor copy or impostor.  The mark on the back of his hand made all of that clear, beyond a shadow of a doubt.

But he couldn't say any of that.  He was pretty sure she wasn't asking, or at least didn't really want to know even if she was.  So instead he settled on a much safer - and no less true - answer.  

"There wasn't really much left to drop."  Before she can start asking about or apologizing for his lost team, he continues.  "I came because there's only one Commander Shepard.  And if she's working with Cerberus, I know there's a damn good reason."

It's probably the alcohol, but he feels bold enough to reach out his hand to cover hers.  "You earned my loyalty on the SR-1, Shepard.  It'll take more than dying to lose it."  

She stares at his hand for a moment before blushing and pulling her own away.  "Thanks, Garrus."  Her smile's a little off, too small and not reaching her eyes (not that he can really tell, she won't look up at him).  "I should go finish up some mission reports.  I'll see you around, Vakarian."

And just like that, he's alone.

\- - - -

Shepard stands in the crosshairs of his scope.  His finger itches to pull the trigger, but he can't think of a single reason in the galaxy that would let him hurt Shepard.  So he snarls into the mic for her to move, knowing his threats probably sound as empty as they are, and waits.  

Even from this distance, he can feel her thinking it through.  The Shepard that hadn't yet died above Alchera would be dead set against him killing Sidonis.  No question.  But this is not that Shepard.  She's changed, ever so slightly but just enough that she's not no longer so sure in her self-righteousness.  

Slowly, she steps to the side.   _"I don't think you should do this," she says over the mic.  "But they were your squad.  It's your choice."_

He'd made the choice so long ago that he doesn't even have to think about it.

Except that he does.  Shepard could've stopped him but chose not to.  She thinks he'll make the right choice.  Or maybe she doesn't know what the right choice is, not anymore.  Maybe she feels a little lost and is depending on him to point her in the right direction.  

In the end, it's the thought of her that makes up his mind.  Picturing Shepard in his position, imagining her pull the trigger...

He _loathes_ that image.  

Does she hate the idea of him killing Sidonis just as much?

With a frustrated sigh he nearly throws down his sniper rifle.  He lets his anger taper off before he heads back to the shuttle.  It might be petty, but he doesn't acknowledge Shepard at all the whole way back and even after they dock.  He just beelines for the Main Battery because his thoughts are a jumbled mess right now and he can't deal with anyone else right now.

Shepard's smart enough to let him go.

\- - - -

It's deja vu of the whole Saleon debacle.  At least, it feels like it until he realizes his anger has fizzled out before it even really had a chance to grow.  He tells Shepard as much when she finally seeks him out.  She lifts her eyebrows in surprise but otherwise doesn't seem all that surprised.

They still talk it out.  They always do.  He expected it and wasn't trying to side step it by letting her know she was right.  Honestly, he just needed to say it.  For the first time in a long time, things start to feel like when they were back on the SR-1.  Way back when Garrus hadn't seen Shepard's tattoo and didn't over analyze everything that happens between them.

Until Shepard goes and pulls the rug out from under him.  

Thane flirts with her.  Jacob flirts with her.  She's still in contact with Liara, and they all know there are feelings there.  So the last thing he expects is for Shepard to flirt with _him_.

He stutters and actually has to work at remaining calm.  Of course he's not calm.  He's anything but.  Falling back on his usual bravado, he flirts back (just enough to hint that he's interested) but holds back.

How is he supposed to concentrate on saving the galaxy when Commander Shepard propositioned him?

It's left hanging between them for the weeks that pass.  Promises of _maybe_ and _soon._ In the limited amount of down time he allows himself, he actually thinks about it.  Him.  Her.   _Together_.  He likes the idea.  More than he thought he would.  Probably because he'd _never thought about it._

The mark on his hand... he's never really taken that as a promise or guarantee of something to come.  Shepard's got her own hang ups about this whole "soulmate" thing, and over the year's his own have grown.  Garrus has never liked being told what to do, and quite frankly this whole thing bugs him.  Did he come to care about Shepard because of the tattoo or does he have the tattoo that he would come to care about her?

Thinking about it keeps him up at night.  So he doesn’t.

\- - - -

In the time he’s known her, he’s rarely seen Shepard lose her temper.  Brutality was never really in her playbook.  So when she’s pistol whipping a suspect to get info, he and Tali share concerned looks.  When she pushes a merc out of a window, well, Tali’s surprised gasp and the way his jaw locks into place don’t even seem to register to Shepard.

First chance she gets, Tali manages to slip away.  Why it falls to him to say something, he’s not sure.  

(Of course he knows why it should be him.  But he wonders what Tali’s reasoning is.)

Against his better judgement, he brings it up to Shepard.  And not just the stuff today, but other things he’s seen since the whole Lazarus Project.  

“I could say the same thing to you, Vakarian.”  She crosses her arms, goes for the menacing _I’m Commander Shepard, don’t fuck with me_  pose she’d perfected years ago.  But then she seems to deflate a little.  “Or at least I could have before you let Sidonis walk away.”

“I’m not accusing you of anything.”  He feels compelled to make that part clear.  “I just wanted you to be aware of it.”

She runs her hands through her hair in a human gesture he’s come to associate with frustration.  “Look, I know I’ve been... a little different since I came back.  Angrier...”  A sigh.  She still won’t meet his eyes.  “I’m...  I’m working on it.”

“Alright.”  

It gets better after that.  Not quite like before she’d died, but closer.  And he gets it, he really does.  She’s not willing to deal with the bullshit and she’s got a mission that needs to be seen through.  Sacrifices need to be made, and there are some she’s obviously already committed to.

But she tries to be a little softer around the edges.  Actively stops herself from going down that road.  

Tali seems to think it’s because of him.  Garrus doesn’t comment either way.

\- - - -

A message from Hackett and Shepard takes a shuttle and disappears.  It’s no secret (the Yeoman has a big mouth and even Miranda confirms it).  The crew whispers about it.  No one’s happy about it, least of all him.

Two days later and there’s a tension underlying everything.  Shepard wouldn’t abandon them, wouldn’t break off radio contact for so long.  Something’s gone wrong.

It doesn’t help that there’s been a tingling sensation in his hand, the mark itching for attention.

When Joker asks him (thankfully, when no one else around) if Shepard’s okay, he doesn’t know how to answer.  He goes with the safe answer, that she’s still alive.  He knows what it would feel like if she died.

But what would it feel like if she were indoctrinated?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was just getting too long, so I cut it short before I could finish ME2. Might have to do the same for ME3? No clue, because these characters won't cooperate and keep making me tell a longer story than I had planned *shakes fist angrily at Garrus*


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lol i think i made a mistake - i never plan out ME fic that follow canon b/c the story is like... already written? i'm just, like, putting a spin on it? but for this story that means i'm not 100% certain where i'm going with it... which in turn means it took me longer than i thought to get around to writing this installment. best guess, i'll be splitting ME3 into two parts with the possibility for an epilogue

  
Shepard locks herself in her cabin. By the end of the hour, the whole crew is abuzz with rumors. The Cerberus crew are taking in hushed voices, something like awe hidden there. The rest of them - *Shepard's* crew - give each other concerned looks. None of them really know what to do. He feels like he's drawn the short straw, because they all look at him expectantly.

Though he hates it, he waits until Hackett leaves.

It's the first time Garrus has dared to step into Shepard's cabin. He hasn't even tried going to this floor of the ship. There's a bit of fidgeting before he gets up the nerve to actually knock.

Without preamble, she opens the door and lets him in.

The room is a mess and Shepard doesn't look much better. None of the crew have seen her in the past 24 hours, and even then not many saw her after she was picked up. The past few days have taken their toll, it would seem. There are dark circles under her eyes and her hair is a mess. Her eyes shine with something wild.

She paces back and forth, and he suspects her mind's doing the same. He ignores the tingling on his hand.

"What happened?"

She's immediately more on edge, though she must have known he'd bring it up. In an unspoken frustration, her hand comes up to rub at the mark on the back of her neck. Garrus starts slightly, having never seen her do it before and surprised at how the nervous twitch seemed practiced. He holds his breath and tries to get a hold of his anger.

Shepard takes a minute to get a handle on herself. He does his best to keep himself calm and allows nothing but soothing thoughts and understanding (though curiosity). Perhaps it's wishful thinking, but it seems to help.

(He's heard of soulmate bonds allowing this sort of shared connection. To consciously send nothing more tangible than emotions. And while he would've liked to believe that's what happened, he knew better. Those types of bonds, well, it couldn't exist when one of the people didn't even *know* about it.)

"I didn't have a choice." Her irritation does little to mask her guilt.

"I believe you." And he means it. She must hear his sincerity, because for the first time, she actually meets his eyes. "But that's not what I asked."

Surprise gives way to resignation. She motions for him to follow as she stalks off to sit on the edge of the bed. He hesitates a moment before sitting across from her on the couch, carefully avoiding the pile of neglected reports.

Shepard leans onto her knees, her head resting in one hand to give her a way to avoid looking at him. The silence stretches out almost uncomfortably between them, but he waits. Slowly, she begins to tell him about it all. Hackett's mission for her and how it all went to hell pretty quickly.

He wants to ask about indoctrination...

(His stomach turns at the thought. That, however slowly, he'd lose her to the Reapers. Would they even notice until too late? Is *he* the last line of defense, the *only* one who would be able to see *feel* the hints? Spirits, he needs her to be okay. The galaxy can't... *he* can't do any of this without her. Would they have to kill her? This is a suicide mission, does any of this even matter?)

Panic wells up inside of him. Saying the words makes the fear real. So instead he lets the terror have free reign for five whole seconds. Then he stamps it down with great precision. Buries it deep down where it'll keep him up at night but won't be peeking out through his eyes every time he looks at her.

She's staring at him, an unreadable look in her eyes. He realizes he hasn't sad anything since she finished. This visit isn't about him and indulging his fears. No, it's about offering what he can to help Shepard.

(She's already beating herself up over this. The *guilt* pouring off of her is so strong, he longs to reassure her. *Needs* to reassure her. But it's not his place. Maybe it should be, but the way things stand and her tentative offer at "relieving stress" gives him no right. She's his commander, a friend. He has to stay within those confines to help her through this.)

\- - - -

Working with the rest of the crew provides the necessary distraction. Everyone's a bit on edge, wary of their own commander, but eventually that gets pushed aside. There are bigger things to worry about than the destruction of a star system.

And how fucked up is that?

\- - - -

Somehow Garrus finds himself on more ground missions. Not that he minds, he's just surprised that Shepard would so obviously show him that much favoritism.

She also visits him more in the Main Battery. Something about being close to him seems to steady her, and though it confuses him, he doesn't say anything.

At one point, she asks him if he's sure. About the two of them. If maybe it'd be weird or something. He thinks about the conversation with Mordin he'd had to endure and acknowledges, at least to himself, that it *is* weird. But not unwanted.

For a brief second, he considers taking the out she's offered. Not because he's not interested. It's just that at this point, he's not sure *she* still is. But the chance at even one night with someone he's come to care about and respect as much as he has Shepard...

She gives him a small smile when he says as much.

\- - - -

When it finally happens, it's not at all like he imagines. He's made a fool of himself when he gets there. It would be so easy to blame his nerves on the impending mission. Of course he knows better. Remembering Omega, he's long since acknowledged that he's willing to die for the right cause. That's not what has his heart beating in staccato. No, it's the human woman standing before him, looking truly vulnerable for the first time.

It's not tender. Maybe in other circumstances it would be. But this? This is rushed and frantic. They're about to die and something's been building between them since they met on the Citadel.

In the aftermath, as she snuggles against him, he chuckles at the mess. They hadn't even managed to wait long enough to undress properly. Her top is still on and he somehow only took one shoe off.

(He was particularly mindful of his gloves. Leaving them on seemed prudent. With his talons, he knew it would be easy enough to explain away should she ask.)

(She didn't.)

Shepard's body is so much cooler than his turian one. Softer, too. He still can't quite get over the hair. The way it shines and pools around her neck. Slowly, he cards his a hand through it. Only once or twice does he let himself trace over the mark on her neck. His own is buzzing from the proximity.

If she notices, she doesn't let on.

\- - - -

The Collector Base is hell.

He thought the whole Saren Citadel disaster had been trying on his nerves. Spirits, this is *so much worse*. There's no respite, his hand practically numb from how hotly it's been burning. Each time Shepard takes a hit, when a bullet happens to knock out her shields long enough to actually hurt her, he grunts in discomfort.

Garrus repeatedly has to shake out his hand, clenching and unclenching it until the dull noise of pain recedes again. He can't afford the stiffness in his trigger finger.

Although the *awareness* of his mark is constant, he has to keep reminding himself that it's *good*. He remembers all too well the sheer *agony* when Shepard had died. The alternating fire and ice pulsing through his veins means danger. But it also means life.

\- - - -

There's a second, a terrible, gut-wrenching second, where his heart stops. He feels *nothing* as Shepard leaps through the air. Instinct is the only thing that saves her as he throws his gun away to reach out and grab for her.

His heart is a jackhammer in his chest. She's barking out orders but he can barely register anything beyond her breathing. He's still got her in his arms, probably too tight. Eventually he feels her pat his arm and he reluctantly lets go.

\- - - -

It's surreal. None of them really believe that they did it *and* survived to tell about it. Garrus shouldn't really be surprised. Commander Shepard works miracles, he's seen it himself.

Maybe it's not that he can't believe that they survived, but rather that this thing he has with Shepard is still going on. They're in the middle of repairs to the ship. The crew needs some down time to relax. And he regularly finds himself in Shepard's bed.

It's temporary and they both know it. Shepard had made it clear to everyone that once the ship's ready, she's dropping them all off at the Citadel (or on some less scrutinized back port like Omega for those wanting to avoid detection and questions). She finally admitted to them all what happened in the Bahak system. It wasn't anything they didn't already know, but it seems important that she actually says the words out loud.

"I'm going to turn myself into the Alliance. I... I can't just pretend that it didn't happen. It did, and even though I stand by the necessity of it... Well, the galaxy may not agree. Anyone not coming with me to Alliance HQ had best be off the ship within two weeks."

There are a lot of whispers at that. This is no longer a Cerberus crew with Shepard's additions. No, they're all Shepard's. It says a lot that they all respect her even more for her decision.

Garrus wants very much to stay with her, but that's selfish and not at all realistic. Whether he's willing to admit it right now or not, he's got his own issues to deal with on Palaven. None of which he's looking forward to, but his people need to be convinced. They need to be ready.

\- - - -

No one does it out loud, but they're counting the days. Ten days since the Collectors. four left until Shepard makes good on her threat. He's spent seven of those nights with her, much like he is now.

They don't always have sex. A couple times he's come up only to find Shepard passed out on the couch. Both times he's merely lifted her and tucked her in, settling in behind her.

Tonight, though, they take a try at tender.

She catches him staring at her tattoo. His hands are running soothing circles along her arm, but when he nuzzles into her hair to breathe her in, he can't help but want to uncover it. To soak in what it means.

He feels like he's been caught doing something he shouldn't have. There's no real reason to explain the guilt that answers the strangled look on her face, but it happens anyway.

His mouth is open to say something *anything* to make this alright, but she finds words first.

"I know you've probably got your own, somewhere." She looks meaningfully at his gloved hands. For a second he freezes, wondering if she knows. But no, her eyes seem to linger on his left hand. "I just want you to know... it doesn't mean anything to me."

Without meaning to, his heart shatters. He's not sure what how that comes across, what look is possibly on his face, but she knows him well enough by now to read *something* in his response.

"I know... Not what you'd expect, right? Everyone's always going on about how *special* these damn things are." She nearly spits out the word.

He's paralyzed. He is not equipped to handle this conversation. All the ways he thought this would happen, this was not one of them.

Unaware of his distress, she sighs and keeps going. "My parents... Well, my dad went through the relay first. Got a mark right here," she points to her clavicle. "Looked like a solar eclipse. My mom didn't go through til later. I don't... I can only imagine how she scoured her body afterwards, looking for that matching mark."

If possible, Garrus' stomach drops further. No. No no no don't say it-

"Not a single one. Matching or otherwise."

Marriages had been torn apart over less. Is this why Shepard's never talked about her parents?

Finally finding his voice, all he can ask is, "And?"

She shrugs, looking away and tracing patterns in the blankets. "They tried not to care. It's not something humans their generation grew up with. It didn't mean to them what it means to the rest of the galaxy." A sigh. "But they fought about it, of course they fought about it." She meets his eyes again. They're glassy and wide but otherwise she's hidden everything else away. "Especially after my dad met *her*."

"Did..." his voice is raspy so he coughs and tries again. "Did your father... did your parents...?"

"They stayed together. I'm not saying it was easy for them, but they're still married. Still love each other. Maybe not the way the galaxy thinks soulmates should love each other." She scoffs at that, anger sneaking in. "But they love each other and are willing to make it work."

He nods because what the fuck do you say to that?

"So you've got someone out there waiting for you, and I guess I got someone out there waiting for me. I just want you to know... I'm not *looking* for them. Whatever you and I have, well, that's for us and not the galaxy to decide."

"Okay." It doesn't sound convincing.

Garrus wholeheartedly agrees with the last part. But as they drift off to sleep in silence, the thought that Shepard actively wouldn't want him if she knew... He's confident it's something that will plague him for some time yet.

\- - - -

It's the last real conversation they have with each other before he's dropped off at the Citadel with Samara. Sure, they see each other, and they talk. They *do*. But it's all technical talk about repairs or concerns about the next couple months.

He remembers the last time he had to leave Shepard. Before Alchera. It makes him reluctant to do so now. In the end, he doesn't even say good-bye before grabbing his things and leaves. Later, once he sees the Normandy has left dock, he feels like an asshole. A message typed out and ready to send, apologizing and-

He deletes it.

The pins and needles feeling in his mark is still there. It's not as constant as it was right after Bahak, but it makes itself known occasionally. Another worry on top of all the other ones. There's nothing he can do to deal with it, so he decides to keep tabs on it for now.

What else can he do?


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not super happy with this installment, but I don't think there's anything I can do to re-work it. The more interesting stuff will be in the second half. Where these two idiots might actually stop to talk about the whole damn mess they've made for themselves. The plan is to do another chapter finishing up ME3 and maybe a little epilogue depending on how things end next chapter. Again, very much leaning towards a *hopeful* if not outright happy ending.
> 
> I had a couple questions asked about not having any marks. I talked a little about that in a tumblr post a while back about what soulmate tattoos might look like in the ME universe. Basically, at least when it comes to Ashley in this story, it means that she doesn't have a soulmate with the implication that she's going to die too young for it to matter.
> 
> I also think someone asked about the *'s in the text. With the new text editor I'm using (that makes it super easy for me to write either at work or at home without issue), I can't add in anything like italics or bolded words. I use the *'s as place holders for me to (hopefully) remember to add that stuff in before posting. Sometimes I miss a few or don't get a chance to do any in a chapter.

There's a lot of work to do on Palaven.  He starts with his father and works his way from there.  Convincing people to take things seriously is the first hurdle, but he's starting to gain some traction.

Luckily he's busy, or else he'd have time to think about-

Well, at least he's busy.

\- - - -

It's weird, being around so many turians all the time.  To his chagrin, he finds himself more accustomed to humans.  

At first this makes it harder to make progress.  He knows how to convince humans, but the way to handle turians is much different.  His father's the one who reminds him of this.  After a lecture that reminds him too vividly of his childhood, he changes tactics.  People start listening.

Which has the strange consequence of Garrus getting more responsibility.  In his mind he had planned it out.  All the proof, carefully organized, would be given to the right people.  He would advise them on the best approach, and then he could wash his hands of it.  

But now he has a rank and a title and people looking to him.  There are expectations.  It's... unnerving.  Really, it's anything a turian should want.  He finds it, somehow, lacking.

It distracts him from Shepard, from the dull ache that's permanently settled in his ribcage.  

\- - - -

Liara contacts him a couple times.  

Most of it's just intel on possible indoctrinated members of the Hierarchy.  And some suggestions about strategy for defending against the first wave of Reaper attacks.  It appears his people are the only ones _really_  doing anything.  Sure, the humans and asari are taking some minor steps, but nothing substantial.  

He doubts any of it will help, in the end, but he's always been a pessimist.  

She also adds in a few personal notes.  Asks about his family. (He tries to forgive her for knowing too much about his mother's health, though it still feels needlessly invasive.  He assumes she brings it up as a way of _showing_  that she knows, trying for transparency.  It just seems creepy.)  Occasionally she'll slip in some info about how Shepard's doing.  

They actually get a vid chat in one day.  It starts out all business, but of course it can't stay that way when they're actually _looking_  at each other.  They both see how stressed the other is, and it just kind of derails the whole discussion into catching up.

He finds out a lot about the ins and outs of being Shadow Broker (and if they ever get the chance, he wants to know more).  Liara asks about the suicide mission that was more mission and less suicide than expected.  Although she no doubt has detailed reports, she also clearly likes hearing the first hand account.  Though he suspects Tali must have filled her in on some of it already.

With only the slightest hint of jealousy, she asks about him and Shepard.  His right talon twitches automatically.  He hopes she didn't notice the tell.  

About two sentences into the conversation he gets interrupted.  Concern evident, Liara asks him what's wrong.  Not jealousy, then.  No, that was unfair of him.  Curiosity, an obvious interest in two of her good friends being in... some form of relationship.

Garrus knows better than to talk about what's really wrong.  That he's hopelessly in love with Shepard.  She's even his soulmate, apparently, and he's hers.  But Shepard's not looking for a soulmate so she doesn't know.  And the whole galaxy's going to hell anyway, so who has time for that anyway?  

He clenches his fist, ignoring the slight numbness he knows he's only imagining where the mark lays hidden.  

But he does want to give Liara an answer, even if it's only a partial one, about why he's worried.  Although he hates saying it (it feels like a betrayal, somehow), he mentions his fears concerning Shepard and indoctrination.  It seems important to let someone else know.  The Reapers could be here any day.  Once it starts, he's pretty sure things will go south pretty fast.  With him being on Palaven, Garrus... well, he can't guarantee he'll survive the first wave.

Liara takes it in and promises she'll do what she can to keep tabs on it.  

The talk seems to die out after that.  Nothing's more of a buzz killer than talking about the galaxy's hero possibly working for the bad guys.  

\- - - -

He knows the moment the Reapers hit Earth because his hand _burns_.  Panic overcomes him as he stumbles out of bed, rushing to check... well, he doesn't know what he _can_  check, because it's still too soon.  Military com channels, maybe.  

The burning in his hand subsides.  Going through the accounts he does manage to dig up, he sees that Vancouver was attacked.  No word on who did and did not survive, and he suspects those reports won't be accurate.  All he has to go on is the pain from his mark.  Although it flashed brightly a few hours ago, it's gone.  Or at least, if it's there, it's so muted he can't quite feel it.  

So, Shepard's alive.  Possibly hurt, but definitely alive.

The tingling that he associates (though wrongly, he hopes) with indoctrination isn't present either.  Which hopefully means she hasn't been captured.  

It doesn't really make him feel better as he hears alarms going off.  Apparently they've reached Palaven, too.

\- - - -

Being on the planet had been bad enough... seeing the devastation from the vantage point of Menae is a thousand times worse.  He _knew_  this was coming and it turns out it did nothing to prepare him.  

With things going so badly, he wonders why they bothered to prepare at all.  Even with years of time to prep (which they squandered) and the six month warning Shepard had bought them, they are getting slaughtered by the millions across the galaxy.  He's not necessarily a morbid turian, but he's a realist and honestly?  It's not looking good.

Only a few hours of total hell and he's resigned himself to it all.  To dying here on Menae.  To never seeing Shepard again (admittedly, even after all these months, that one stings more than he'd thought it would).  To failing his family and his species and pretty much all sentient life in the galaxy.  

It doesn't mean he's going to stop fighting.  It just means he sees the futility of it.

But his world lights up again when he hears Shepard's voice.  If he's being honest with himself (and he usually is), he would have given nearly anything to have her alive and safe.... but he would've given just a bit more to be there too.  He's always been along for the ride.  And if he has to die (they all do, the clock's ticking down on all of them), well, there's no where he'd rather do it than by her side.  

The Reapers seem only too happy to oblige.

Let them try.

\- - - -

They left things awkwardly.  Garrus is all too aware of that as he hides in the Main Battery (and damn it all how the Alliance has fucked it up).  Nothing had seemed out of place on Menae.  But he hadn't expected it then.  In front of the new crewman Vega...  Shepard's always been professional.  

No, what he dreads is when she comes to seek him out.  Which she will.  Soon.  

He busies himself with trying to decipher the piss poor programming the Alliance has done on his systems.  Luckily he knows this ship well, could probably calibrate everything in his sleep, so it's not difficult.  The repetitive, mind-numbingness of the task is almost hypnotic, allowing his mind to drift.  The war disappears, his worry for his parents evaporates, and the tension in his gut relaxes.  

Garrus completely loses himself in writing algorithms and running diagnostics that he doesn't even register the doors opening.  

"Vakarian... already back at it?"

He can't tell if his heart jumps up into his throat or falls into the pit of the stomach, but either way the reaction is uncomfortable.  And somewhat startling - he thought he'd moved past where Shepard's presence could do things like this to him.

"The old girl needs some work.  The Alliance appears to have taken some _liberties_  with my programming.  I'm sure they had their reasons, but I know I can up the efficiency on the mods they've installed-"

"Garrus."  It's only then that he realizes he'd been babbling.  

"Sorry."  There's just enough time for him to worry about what's coming next that he starts talking again.  A little voice in the back of his head is telling him to just shut up, but he's never been good at listening to that voice.  "I was uh... I know we left things in a weird spot... and I'm not really, uh... sure of the protocol for reunions or anything-"

Shepard reaches up and gently runs her thumb along one of his mandibles.  He breathes out a sigh of relief, mostly because the interruption stops the nonsense pouring out of his mouth.  Without really meaning to, he leans into her hand.  Spirits, he's missed this.  It's not fair, none of it.  That he has a soulmate who he hasn't seen in months and only gets to see now because they're facing their impending deaths.  Again.  A soulmate who may not even want him ~~once~~  if she finds out about the matching marks they carry.  

"You're overthinking this."

That train of thought rattles to a halt.  He's so over the place it feels like whiplash.  "Sorry."

"Stop apologizing."  She'd sound like she's scolding him if it weren't for how gentle her tone is.  Her finger pads over his mandible a few more times before she pulls him down for a gentle peck on the cheek.  "That's the protocol on reunions, FYI."  

His mind goes blank for a moment before he pulls her in and buries his face in the crook of her neck.  Nuzzling into her hair, he just breathes her in.  Her arms find the way around his waist and he shivers slightly.  Spirits he's missed this.

\- - - -

Perhaps it's a mistake, but things pick up right where they left off.  He spends his nights in Shepard's cabin more often than not, even on the nights she doesn't appear because she's too caught up working.  Sometimes she's already passed out by the time he gets there, draped over the reports on her desk or laying awkwardly on her sofa.  Those are the times he gently tucks her in and cleans up before crawling in beside her.

After a few weeks, Garrus gets caught up in how _domestic_  it is.  Sure, there's still sex.  Surprisingly frequent bouts of sex that are probably the only source of relaxation either of them gets.  But the times they just cuddle up together or have a quiet dinner outnumber those times more often than not.  

It's everything he's ever wanted.  It's nothing like what he expected.  He loves it and he hates that he loves it and hates that it's not enough.

Fuck.

\- - - -

Everyone does the best to take out their frustration and misery on the Reapers.  He does everything in his power to take down every one of those fuckers he can.  It's not as cathartic as he'd like, but it's something.  

He edges along a few lines he's drawn for himself over the past few years.  As much as the war blazes around them, parts of himself are at odds with each other.  

The ends justify the means.  

No, they absolutely do not - we can't let the Reapers make us something we're not or what's the point.  

What's the point?  What's the point of holding fast to our "ethics" if it means extinction?  What's the point in everything our species have built if we're going to throw it all away so we can claim to have taken the "moral high ground"?

We can't become as bad as the monsters trying to kill us.  If we do, they win even if they lose.

Back and forth, back and forth.  It doesn't help that he sees the same conflict mirrored in Shepard's eyes.  If he looks for it, he sees it in Liara's and Joker's and pretty much everyone else's.  

He dislikes how much he's already had to compromise what he believes in, the type of turian he'd like to be.  Every fight, every decision, he strives to be better.  If not for himself - because he's pretty sure he's totally fucked - then for Shepard.  She's the one who can win or lose this fight for them.  She's the one who needs to be strong.  So if he can do this for her, this one small thing, well, he'll try.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahahaha remember when I said this would only be like three chapters? Well I am apparently *terrible* at guessing how long I need to actually tell a story. These characters... they need to stop taking over, man. 
> 
> Though it's actually kinda fun going through a story I haven't planned out yet. I'm kinda discovering the story as I write it, which is always surprising. I totally had a different Shepard reaction initially planned, but that got totally scraped based on last chapter. Still don't know how this is actually going to end, but I guess that's a problem for future me to figure out ;)

Maybe he's letting himself get too stressed out by the galaxy falling apart, but it hits him one morning.  Or maybe it's evening, he can't really tell anymore.  The tingling on his hand is back.  How long has it been there?  

He berates himself because he has no honest answer to that.  It could've been just that moment or it could've been a month ago.  He'd stopped checking a while ago, some time after the Normandy had come to Menae.  The vast weeks between then and now stretch before him, and he cannot for the life of him narrow it down more than that.

Carefully, he seeks out Liara.  

The last time they'd discussed Shepard's possible indoctrination, the conversation had been over comm channels.  It had afforded him a certain amount of leeway to re-direct lines of questioning that he quite frankly did not want to address.  

("How do you know, Garrus?" Liara's voice whispers to him.  "What makes you so sure this is possible when no one else is?"  He'd been able to avoid it last time.  He knows he won't be so lucky twice.)

In the privacy of Liara's quarters, he's lost the luxury.  

" _Garrus_."  Her tone is all shadow broker, no friendly confidant here.  "Why are you so worried about this?  I haven't seen anything that would make me suspect Shepard."

For a moment he thinks she must already _know_.  She knows everything now, right?  All the secrets the galaxy has ever tried hiding just fall into her lap.  Something as trivial as Garrus Vakarian's soulmate mark, etched deeply onto his right talon, would have easily been found out ages ago.

His instinct is to glare at her for making him say it out loud.  Even when Joker found out, it had been _obvious_  and he hadn't had to voice it.  And he hates that Liara's making him spell it out because she _must know_ -

She returns his glare with equal ferocity.  

A couple minutes pass and then he realizes.  She _doesn't_  know.  Her impatience makes him think that, hell, maybe she _doesn't even have a clue_.  

"Well, this is awkward," he laughs out, taking time to look everywhere but at the frustrated asari in front of him.  Before she can demand him to just spit it out, he carefully removes his right glove and pointedly lays his hand on the table.  Because he's still being too much of a child to actually _say_  it.

Bewilderment subsides as she finally gets a good look at his talon.  Liara's features all soften once the shock wears off.  "Oh."  

"Yeah."

They don't talk about it, at least not directly.  Garrus explains what he felt when Shepard died, or when she's seriously hurt or in a lot of danger.  Compares it to what he feels now, the tingling itch that's been there since the Bahak System.  Days of time unaccounted for, so close to a Reaper artifact and those poor indoctrinated bastards.  

"Oh."  

"Yeah."

The next few hours are spent pouring over every decision Shepard's made since then.  They analyze it under two assumptions - that she is and then that she is not indoctrinated.  Each time, they try to see which one makes more sense.  

In the end, they can't really come to a conclusion.  Sure, most of it seems to be in keeping with her behavior before Bahak.  

"But she might have already been feeling pressure from indoctrination - her exposure during that mission may have only accelerated the process," Liara points out.

So they go around again, back farther.  

"And you're sure you didn't feel it while Shepard was on Earth?  What would that mean?"

"I just figured it was because she wasn't near anything Reaper.  Now that she's back out in space..."  He shrugs.  

"I suppose that makes sense..."  

All this speculation gets them no where.  They are no closer to a consensus than they were before.  "Maybe" isn't exactly a lot to go on.  There's nothing they can really do except continue to keep an eye out for any strange behavior and be critical of Shepard's decisions.  

Although Liara suggests talking to Hackett, Garrus immediately shoots that down.  "This cannot leave this room.  If anyone even _thinks_  her judgement might be impaired, we're _done_."

He's right and they both know it.

"Alright."  Sure, she hesitates, but Garrus is just glad she agrees.  He's about to get up and leave when she completely blind sides him by asking, "Does Shepard know?"

A frustrated sigh and distressed subvocals can't quite be covered up as he tries to avoid eye contact.  He doesn't have to ask what she means.  "No," he says, tensing up and preparing for a lecture.  

He's right about that too.

" _Garrus Vakarian!_   You haven't told Shepard that you're _soulmates_?"  Her brow furrows.  "How is that even possible?  I was under the assumption that you two were together-"

"I wear gloves."

"Alright," and she's apparently willing to gloss right over how he wears gloves during sex.  Thank the Spirits he is having this discussion with Liara and not Joker.  "But that doesn't really explain why you haven't spoken to her about this.  Do you not...?"

The question's open-ended.  Want to be with her?  Love her?  Think you'll survive long enough to actually do anything other than fight Reapers and fuck?  He's not sure which one he's being asked and he's not sure how he can really answer any of them.  

"She, uh, doesn't really believe in soulmates."  

Eyes narrowed, Liara takes a deep breath (though it sounds like she would rather scream in frustration).  "Tell me everything."  When she sees his skeptical look, she adds, "Please.  I just want to help.  Perhaps a different point of view might help?"

So he tells her.  About Shepard's parents and how she purposely avoids the topic most of the time.  That she's made it clear she does _not_  care who her soulmate is.  And it kind of sucks that the lighter conversational topic is that Shepard is apparently his soulmate.  But life sort of sucks in general right now, so he takes it in stride.  What else can he do about it anyway?

After hearing everything, Liara goes quiet.  "That... does not sound particularly encouraging."

"Tell me about it."

"Are you sure there's no way you could have misinterpreted-"

"No."  Even though he wants to say "Yes!"  Even if he wants to hope.  

"Garrus..."  He hates that tone.  Pity and empathy and he just wants this conversation to be _over_  so he doesn't have to think about it anymore and can mope in the Battery in peace.  "Do you want more than...  I don't want to assume anything, but whatever you and Shepard currently have?"

If he's being honest, he wants a lot of things.  He wants a soulmate he can marry and have children with.  Sure, they'd have to adopt, but he's fine with that.  He wants to grow old with his soulmate.  Live in an apartment on the Citadel but have a house on Palaven or Earth to vacation in.  He wants to fix the galaxy with Shepard at his side (or his at hers, he's not picky).  Defeating the Reapers would be a great start-

And that's where his hopes die, isn't it?  They're not going to survive this war.  Odds are they die young.  One if not both of them.  No matter how long they last, they're not going to outlast the Reapers.  Sure, he stays positive about the Crucible and all that, but it's for Shepard's sake more than anything else.  There are no guarantees and he's too terrified to plan for the best with the worst casting a shadow over everything else.

All of that, the very real shit storm of their lives at the moment, is so insurmountable he doesn't really see the point of worrying about the rest.  Shepard's qualms about soulmate tattoos would be a huge problem if their circumstances are ideal.  But they aren't.  

Liara waits patiently while he trudges through the mine field in his head.  Finally, he gets to an answer he's willing to share.  

"Yes, I want more than a casual romance or whatever we're doing.  But the Reapers aren't going to let us get that, soulmates or not."  He sees her about to interrupt so he puts up a hand and adds, " _If_  we win, I'll re-assess and go from there.  One war at a time, though."  

The last part's meant to be a joke.  Neither of them really find it funny.

"I still think you should talk to her about it.  Maybe... maybe she's just scared because of what happened with her parents.  Doesn't want to commit to someone who might just leave her when their 'real' soulmate appears."

"I _am_ -"

"Do not interrupt me, Garrus Vakarian.  From what you've told me, it sounds like she has no reason to believe _you_  are her soulmate.  Maybe she's just insecure and it's easier to keep the soulmate issue at arm's length than deal with the real possibility of falling for someone who the galaxy says isn't 'compatible.'  You need to talk to her and find out."

His jaw locks as he holds back whatever snarky comment he was about to say.  There's no point, Liara's not going to back down from her stance.  "Fine," he bites out instead, trying to make it sound sincere.  "I will."

\- - - -

He doesn't.  He's not sure he ever intended to.

\- - - -

If he lets himself think about it, he's knows why.  Best case scenario, Shepard's just trying to protect herself but would jump into his arms ecstatically if she knew they were soulmates.  Worst case scenario, she'll want nothing to do with him ~~when~~  if she finds out they're soulmates.  More likely her reaction lies somewhere between each extreme (neither really seems like something she would do, not really).

He tells himself he'd be able to handle all of it, though he has an obvious preference.

But somewhere along the line it happened.  He woke up with human hair tickling him and the sound of Shepard's wheezy breathing (he's told it's called 'snoring' and it's perfectly normal, even if it sounds like he's sleeping next to a varren).  Still groggy, he just nuzzles in closer, their bodies aligned as well as a human and turian possibly can be,

Fuck.

He doesn't know how he let it happen, but it did.  He actually fell in love with Shepard.  

And he stops worrying about how Shepard's built up this anti-soulmate mentality to protect herself.  No, now he's worried about protecting himself, because now he knows all too well that he's given her the power to crush him absolutely.

\- - - -

Things on the ship are tense.  Morale is low, and it's understandable considering they can't go a day without catching a break.  It's mission after mission, more and more terrible news about the war, lost families and friends...  

He also feels pretty shitty about himself when he's relieved when Shepard edges on morally bankrupt.  When she's ready to give up on finding the "right way" in favor of landing a huge blow against the Reapers, well, it makes him feel like it's less likely she's indoctrinated.  The deliberately destructive way she strikes at them, ignoring consequences, is somehow comforting.  Trying to do the "right thing" is so much riskier, makes his heart skip a few beats because it would be _so easy_  to cover pro-Reaper motives behind-

No, he has to not think that way.  He has to try and nudge Shepard towards that "better" path.  For her own sake as well as his.

\- - - -

It's surprising how many people come out of the wood works when the galaxy is ending.  People he hasn't seen in years contact him, looking for help or to offer it.  He's actually spoken with his father in the past few months than he had in the previous decade.  Most of it was actually pretty civil, too.

But what does take him off guard for a moment is when he runs into Dr. Michel while on the Citadel.  They take for a bit, catch up.  The doctor is actually pretty good at avoiding any morbid topics, so it's actually a nice little break from everything.  Chitchat isn't really his thing, but an hour later he realizes the time, says good-bye and heads back to the ship.

A few days later (maybe a week? it's so hard to keep track of time these days) when they're back at the Citadel, he gets a package delivered.  Which raises a few eyebrows (even his own, or at least it would if he had any).  He's eating lunch with Tali when it gets dropped off.  An ordinary looking box with a small note from Dr. Michel, saying how nice it was to catch up.

"What is it?"

After skimming over the card, he actually looks at the box.  "Dextro-chocolates."  Thoughtful, but he doesn't like sweets.  Maybe it's lucky he happened to be with Tali, or else what would he do with them?  "Want some?"

"I don't think you're supposed to _share_ , Garrus."

He stares at her blankly.  "... Why not?"

Tali just sighs and he knows, just _knows_  she's rolling her eyes at him.  But she eats half the chocolates anyway.

\- - - -

Shepard's not in a good mood for the next couple of days.  He doesn't know why she seems to be looking for an excuse to bite his head off.  

He never was very good at putting two and two together.

\- - - -

Alenko re-joins the crew.  Which is good.  The two of them always got along and Kaidan is a skilled biotic.  He's part of the old SR-1 family and it really just makes sense for him to be here with them, finishing what they started years ago.

At least, he keeps telling himself all of this.  Repeatedly.

He tries to ignore the way he looks at Shepard.  And how much time they spend together.  And how easy it is for him to make her smile.  That when they eat together they can actually eat _the same thing_  and complain about it.  And sometimes she takes him on missions he would have expected to have been picked for.  She'll make a point of looking him in the eye before saying Alenko's going with her instead.  

"Damn, that's harsh bro," Vega mutters to him after the third time it happens.  So apparently other people have noticed it to.

He's not in a good mood for a solid sixteen days.  He doesn't know why he keeps looking for an excuse to snap at Shepard.  

(Yes he does, of course he does.  He might be able to lie to her but he can't lie to himself.)

It comes to a head one evening in her cabin.  He's been avoiding sleeping up here pretty religiously since about two days into Alenko's return.  After checking the duty roster, he knows they're both off right now and figures they could use some time together.

Later, he will acknowledge his mistake was not finding a more public space.  They might have avoided the whole thing.

Garrus wasn't expecting a fight.  He never is, not with Shepard of all people, so he isn't looking for the warning signs.  The surprise bordering on shock when she sees him come in.  Her stiff posture.  What he mistakes for a toneless, "What are you doing here?" later replays in his head as so positively _cold_.

"I thought we could spend the evening together.  I brought dinner."  He holds up the rations he'd pilfered earlier.  Hopefully she likes whatever MAC&CHEESE is.

"I'm pretty busy."

He blinks once or twice.  Now he's starting to get wary.  "Anything I can help with?"

"It's just mission reports.  Can't really help with those if you're not actually _on_  the missions."  

Seriously?  What the actual fuck.  

Never let it be said that Garrus Vakarian doesn't have a temper to match Jane Shepard's.

"And whose fault would that be?"

"Excuse me?"

"Why don't you take me on ground missions anymore?"  He very casually drops both of the rations on her desk, crossing his arms and glaring at her with narrowed eyes.  

"I take the best crew members available based on the needs of the mission."  Fuck her, it sounds so damn scripted.

"Funny," and he puts as much ice into his voice as he can, "because I would've thought that a sniper would be more valuable on a re-con op than a close quarters biotic specialist."

"Yeah?"  Her laugh gives him a slight chill.  "That's probably why they don't put you in charge of shit."

Memories of Omega and his spectacular fuck up rise up unbidden.  He does his best to push those to the side.  "Careful, they might not put _you_  in charge of it much longer if you pick squadmates based on personal preference rather than strategic value."

There's a bit of amused shock at that.  Not quite the rise he was hoping to get out of her, though.  (And why is he even trying to get her riled up?  How is that going to help things?)

"If you feel that I am unfairly discriminating against you-"

"The whole fucking crew knows you are!"

"So you think I'm letting my personal feelings get in the way of my job?"

Personal feelings?  Wait, does she mean about him or Alenko?  "Honestly, Shepard, I don't know what I think.  I'm just saying, whatever's going on, I don't like it-"

"Oh, you don't like it?"  She sounds a bit bitter.  "What about you and Michel?  Am I supposed to like that?"

That takes the wind out of his sails, but mostly because he's just confused.  "Huh?"

"Heard all about your little date with her a few weeks ago.  And the chocolates.  Very cute couple you two make."

She won't look him in the eye and it makes it very hard to read the situation.  "You think there's something going on between me and Chloe?"

" _Chloe_!?  Oh, it's _Chloe_  now?"

Frustration, not just with this argument but with the whole damn situation between him and Shepard, he just kind of snaps.  He rounds on her and pointedly asks, "What did you feel when the rocket hit me back on Omega?"

She blinks at him.  Once.  Twice.  A third time before a frown sets in.  They both know she understands the question, she's just not sure why he's asking it.  "Felt kinda like I took a 2 by 4 to the back of the head."  She gives him a questioning look, but keeps going.  "Worst fucking headache I can remember having, other than waking up alive.  Didn't go away for a few hours, either."

Very deliberately, he starts pulling off his gloves.  

Shepard's eyes go wide.  "Garrus, what are you doing?  Don't-"

He can tell she wants to look away, but she's absolutely transfixed.  He starts with the left one, and she lets out what might be a sigh of relief when she sees absolutely nothing.  When he starts to pull off the other one, she automatically tracks the movement.  

He knows the exact moment she sees it, the blue and red and purple.  And he sees the exact second when she _understands_  it.  Her hand comes up to rub at her own mark, an unconscious habit she's always had, but this time she catches herself halfway and lets her hand fall awkwardly to her side.

Quietly, like he's going to spook her if he says it too loudly, he whispers, "When you died above Alchera, my hand hurt so badly I just wanted to cut the damn thing off."

When her eyes finally find his again, there are tears threatening to fall.  Garrus wants to reach out and wipe them away, but he waits for permission.  Some sign that she's something he still gets to have.

Not for the first time, Shepard does something he's not expected.  It is, however, the first time he's seen her run away.

She nearly sprints out the door, giving him a wide berth like he might burn her if she gets too close.  He hears the door close behind him and doesn't move.  Shoulders slumps, he waits long enough to know she's gone before he lets himself fall backwards onto the couch.  

Well, that could've gone better.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so here's a late update... whoops! last week i was in an off mood and ended up writing barely anything. this week i've been sick, so it's been slow going. (never mind that garrus decided to be super mopey this chapter and that slowed down the plot...)
> 
> also slight retcon - i think i implied that both of shep's parents were still alive, but i'm changing it to papa shepard being recently deceased. so keep that in mind!

He gives it enough time to know that Shepard's gone, managed to escape to wherever the hell she's run off to.  Maybe he shouldn't be surprised that his sour mood is so easy to pick up on, but Vega takes one look at him as exits the elevator and pushes him back in.  Garrus lacks the energy to argue, just lets the human lead him out onto the Citadel and to a bar.  

The two trade stories and shots well into the night.  Garrus finds he's only too happy to lose himself in an alcohol-induced haze.

\- - - -

The next morning he wakes up with a headache and an emptiness that he carefully doesn't swell on.  He fucked up, that much is clear, and it's easier to focus on the physical after effects of his night of drinking than it is to think about the hole he's dug himself into.

He heads out into the Mess, immediately spotting Joker's shit eating grin and Vega looking like he's dead on his feet.  After grabbing some dextro rations he heads to sit with the two humans.  Joker lets him get settled before casually saying, "So... I hear you guys went drinking last night."

James winces slightly at the reminder, hunching further over his lone cup of coffee.  Garrus tries not to laugh as he drawls, "I thought humans could handle their liquor better."

James groans, Joker laughs.  

They tease Vega a bit more before Joker starts going on about comm chatter he's been picking up, all of it pretty depressing... except for a murder mystery he swears he's come across, something straight out of a soap opera.  Vega mutters that he's full o fshit, either making it all up or reading too much into it, before burying his face in his arms and passing out on the table top.

"Now that sleeping beauty's out for the count," and Joker pokes Vega a few times for good measure, "You wanna tell me the reason you two were out getting smashed last night?  Never really thought that was your scene."

Garrus snorts, hoping his subvocals don't reveal just how much he agrees, but only says, "No."

If this were Liara or Tali ~~or Shepard~~ , he's pretty sure that would not be an acceptable answer.  But this is Joker.  He eyes the turian for a minute, shrugs and says, "Fair enough."

\- - - -

Avoiding Shepard has never been difficult.  The ship's not that big, but they're both busy.  War tends to do that.  

He claims that he's just trying to give her space, but it's harder to justify that when he spends half his day outside of the Battery.  Truth be told, he doesn't want to find her... and he sure as hell doesn't want her to find him right now.  Things are a mess between them, and he's not sure there's any fixing it.  He needs the distance for his own sanity, needs to let the idea of "it's over" settle inside of him before facing her again.

(What's over?  What the hell were they even doing?)

(Gotta focus on it being over, quash all the hope that's still alive, deep down.  Get used to the idea of working together and nothing more.)

Working with the Primarch helps.  He can focus on Palaven and strategies for the Heirarchy to implement.  All of this is familiar and makes him feel useful (and useless, as the casualty reports come in, but that's another issue).  

There's some urgent whispering among crewmen, but he ignores it.  They eye him a bit with an open curiosity, and though it makes him wonder, he doesn't care.  

But after the fifth or sixth time he catches the eye of someone, only to have them immediately stop talking and turn away, it does start to nag at him a bit.  He hasn't been the subject of gossip since he first joined the Cerberus crew.  Do they know about his fight with Shepard?  But no, how could they?  It was private, and he doubts either EDI or Shepard would have said anything.  

No, he's just being paranoid.

\- - - -

He's not being paranoid.

Roughly ten hours later (why he's still awake and working when his shift ended some time ago, well, he'll just blame the war for that one) he finds out from Vega.  

The marine pulls him aside just as he's entering the Mess.  Without preamble, he mutters, "Shepard's gone."

He blinks, mandibles flaring slightly, his mouth seems to get stuck around all the questions he has at that simple statement.  Fuck, you know things are serious when Vega drops the nicknames.  Garrus is so rarely caught off guard like this, but his imagination lets a dozen scenarios run out in his head.  

~~She abandoned the crew.~~

~~She's gone back to Earth.~~

~~She's been kidnapped.~~

~~She's been killed.~~

~~Whatever happened, he'll never find out.~~

"What do you mean gone?"  Because there's no way the reality could be worse.

"I mean she's fucking _gone_ , man.  From what I hear, she met up with some asari chick from Omega and-"

Oh Spirits, _no_.  "Aria?"  

James frowns and nods.  "Sounds right.  Some ensign says he saw the two of them boarding a ship together.  Blue looked into flight logs, seems like the ship's probably headed to Omega."

"And we're obviously going to follow and go get her."

"No dice, Scars.  We're not even a hundred percent sure that's what happened.  Alliance is telling us to stay put for now."

His heart is pounding in his chest.  This is bad.  This would be bad in any circumstances, but with the Reapers bearing down on them from all sides, the timing could not be worse.  "Who'd she take with her?"  If it's not him and Vega, or apparently Liara, he wants to at least know she's in good hands.

Vega doesn't answer.

"James..."  There's a warning there, something bordering on a growl.  

"The entire crew is accounted for... except for Lola."  He doesn't meet Garrus' eyes as he says it.  They're both judging what is obviously a poor call on Shepard's part, but the lieutenant is trying his best not to think poorly of his commander.

Garrus, well... he's not so forgiving.  He storms off for the Battery without looking back.

\- - - -

The logical part of him knows he should sleep.  He's been up for a solid fifteen hours.  But he can't.  Even if he tries, he'd just be tossing and turning, staring into the dull glow given off by the Normandy's guns.  

He goes over everything he knows about Aria, everything he can find out about the current situation on Omega.  For a moment he's tempted to get Liara to give him access to Shepard's personal files.  He knows the two of them are at best uneasy allies, so there must be something to give him insight on what's going on.  

It's unethical for sure, and in the end he decides against it.  Not because it's morally questionable, but because he assumes Liara's already gone through those files and if anything were pertinent, she would have forwarded them to him by now.

Also in the realm of things that would make one question his morals, he hacks into various military channels.  He sets up some algorithms to sift through for information that might be relevant to whatever Shepard's up to.  

Sometimes there's no data to go over.  No interaction from his time on Omega to over analyze.  Instead it's just him and his ever growing unease.  The very real feeling that Shepard is in danger and that it is categorically his fault.  

\- - - -

Garrus isn't the first person to underestimate Jane Shepard, and he's unlikely to be the last.

She's gone three days.  63 hours.  

He has slept somewhere in the ballpark of five of those hours.  Once the crew is given word to expert her back, that she's alive and fine and they'll be leaving the Citadel once she's back, he shuts off all his computers.  It's surprisingly easy to pass out after that.

\- - - -

Thankfully he doesn't dream.  

Garrus wakes up rested but stiff.  His console's blinking at him, a message waiting.  He stares for a while, not sure what he's expecting or dreading more.  With a grunt, he gets up to check.

Just one message, from Joker, telling him that Shepard's back on board.  That despite everything, she came back unscathed, more or less.  She's got a bit of a limp, looks like shit, but is fine.

Nothing from Shepard herself, which is probably a bad sign.  But he expected that, so okay.

\- - - -

Everything returns to a sort of mockery of normal.  He gets questioning looks from the crew.  Liara even tries to corner him in the elevator at one point, but he narrowly escapes that disaster.  

Garrus doesn't see Shepard for a few days after she comes back.  She doesn't seek him out, so he takes that to mean she needs space.  (Though she might be thinking the same.)  They see each other during mission briefings, but it takes three of them before she makes him tag along.

Vega's the third, and he has an almost terrified look when he finds that out.  The tension in the shuttle ride is palpable, though most if it is James.  He keeps fidgeting, making awkward small talk and giving each of them a _look_.  After the third or fourth time, he catches Shepard's eye and they both smile.

Well, it's something.

After the mission, with an ache settling between his shoulders and under his plates, Shepard has to run to catch up to him.  "Vakarian!"

He stops and waits.  "You on duty tonight?"

"You make the duty rosters, Shepard, so you know I'm not."

"Right."  She chuckles a bit, but there's something underneath.  "My quarters when you're done your shift?"

His brain short circuits for a second.  Panic.  She's going to lay it out, end it all for good.  

( ~~Maybe she won't~~ - 

He kills that voice before it can gain any strength.)

"Okay."

And then she's gone before he can change his mind.  He watches her go and tries not to think how that ominous that image is.

After Shepard leaves, he spots James skulking by the shuttle.  "So... which one of you's in the dog house?"

Although the idiom means nothing, he gets the gist of it.  With a shrug as he turns for the elevator, he mutters, "Definitely me."

\- - - -

There's only so much he can do to delay.  Puttering around the Battery only buys him a couple minutes.  Eventually he just gives up trying to put it off.  

Shepard's at her desk and he can see the way she tenses when the door opens.  They stare each other down, neither giving much away.  

_Great start, this isn't going to be painful at all._

He never was an optimist.

After the way things went last time, he feels like he can't be the one to start.  But as the silence stretches on, his resolve starts to waiver.  Eventually she takes mercy on him and speaks.  "Haven't seen you around much lately."

He snorts, reasonably confident that's not his fault.   _He's_  not the one who disappeared.   _He_  didn't run off with a crime lord to Omega.  But working with the Primarch taught him to be diplomatic.  "It seemed like you needed time to... figure things out."

Her fingers twitch where they lay on her desk.  "You could say that."  She pauses, shifts in her seat.  "I feel like I need to explain myself a bit."

Diplomatic maybe, but he still errs more towards blunt.  "If it's because of what happened with your parents-"

"I felt for all three of them, actually."

He pauses, not quite understanding.  "What?"

"For my mom, because apparently my dad wasn't 'it' for her, and she wasn't for him.  My dad, because he fell in love with my mom and had some fucking tattoo telling him he didn't fucking understand his own feelings.  And... for my dad's soulmate.  Because I saw them together - and yeah, they were only ever just friends - but they were pretty good together and it was like looking at wasted potential."  

She turns away and idly plays with the sleeves of her shirt.  He hates that she won't even look at him right now.  "It sucked.  For all of them.  And it just... didn't have to.  If there weren't any of these damn marks on people, all three of them would've been happy.  Mom and Dad would've been good, and I bet anything that lieutenant would've become a good family friend.  But..."

"But?" he urges when she won't say more.

With a sigh, Shepard shrugs.  "My mom trusted by dad, but...  There's always that worry in the back of her mind.  That she wasn't good enough, that my dad might have an affair, that she was in the way of true love.  All of these things nagging at her for years.  Until my dad died a few years ago, and then it became guilt for having thought any of those things to begin with."

Garrus is once again at a loss for words.  What the hell do you say to something like that?  But there is one thing, something that's bothered him for a while and that's even worse now that they both _know_.  "Shepard," he says gently, because he doesn't think this is going to go well but he still has to ask, "What does this have to do with us?"

She snaps around to glare at him, as if the answer should be obvious.  

"Your parents weren't soulmates, we are, so I'm not sure what you're afr-"

"When did you find out?"

Somehow it feels like a trap.  Unfortunately it's one he has no choice but to step into.  "On the SR-1.  Pretty early on."

Maybe she suspected as much, that it's been some time (it's not like she goes to the trouble of hiding her own mark like he has), but she seems shocked anyway.  "And when did you realize you were interested in me?"

And there's the trap.  Because honestly, he doesn't know.  Before he noticed?  After?  A mix of both?  Did the mark influence the feelings or were the feelings always going to happen and that's why there's a mark?  Slightly defeated, he can't really mount an argument against it.

Reading what she needs into his silence, she turns away again.  "I don't want someone who's not sure if they want me."

To think anyone in the galaxy could question whether or not he wants, needs,  _loves_  Jane Shepard is ridiculous.  And the fact that it's Shepard herself who doubts it.  "Shepard- Jane, how could you think-"

"We want fundamentally different things and I think we need to take a step back for a bit.  Maybe when the damn Reapers aren't hanging over our heads..."

Anger rises up in him.  Justified or not, he can't help it as he snarls out, "Will you at least look at me-"

She does.  It doesn't help.  "You lied and..."  There's a pained look in her eyes before she masks it.  "Look, I understand I put you in a situation where you felt you had to.  I get it.  But it doesn't change the facts here.  I think we need space from whatever the hell it is that we are or were or could be or _whatever_."  She frowns.  " _I_  need the space.  Can you give me that?"

Really, he knew this was coming.  No surprises in the outcome, maybe just in how it got here.  So he takes a step back, stands up straight, and says as dutifully as possible, "Yes, of course Commander."

This time it's his turn to storm off.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah this is definitely not what I was supposed to be working on (it's not currently up next on my list of WIPs to work on), but this seemed like the easier choice to write at the moment so it got a little more attention a little sooner than anticipated... Don't expect a quick update for the next part - I gotta get those other WIPs done and I've got two short ficlets I wanna get done first (one of them is a fluffy Shakarian au, so keep an eye out for that if you want a break from the *angst* and *moping*).
> 
> I've actually gotten *several* comments recently on fics about my dialogue. I didn't intend to put so much dialogue in this installment (more than usual for me), but it kinda just happened. Oh well??

Garrus' indignant anger follows him all the way to the Main Battery.  He's only sort of aware, in a peripheral sort of way, that he may have terrified a young Alliance crewman as he stormed out of the elevator.  Alone in the Battery, he only _just_  manages to refrain from punching the bulkhead.  Instead he settles for angrily slamming his fist against the console.

It pings angrily in protest.  He leans heavily against it, letting his shoulders sag and doing everything in his power to keep from thinking.  Only after a good three minutes does he realize it's still pinging and blinking indignantly at him.

A single message is in his inbox.  Curious (and desperate for the distraction - even if it means dealing with some galactic catastrophe because at least then it'd be removed from his own life, something tragic but impersonal), he opens it.  He wishes he hadn't.

_Archangel- Your girl's a mess.  Tried to talk some sense into her, doubt it panned out.  Fix it before it gets out of hand.  -Aria_

He reads it a dozen times before deleting it.

_Thanks for the head's up._

In annoyance, he blocks the communication channel the message came through, though it's unlikely the asari would try to contact him again.  For good measure, he blocks incoming messages from Shepard.  There's nothing he wants to hear from her right now, not unless she's willing to say them in person.

\- - - -  

The fire of his anger burns out pretty quickly.  It takes a while to notice it, longer than it should, but he feels similar to how he did between the Citadel and the start of his quest on Omega.  But at least then he had been able to channel the pain he was feeling into a sort of manic energy.  Now all he feels is apathy.

He doesn't bother attending debriefings.  He highly doubts he'll be picked for field missions and he's not particularly interested in going on them.  There are other duties for him to attend to that minimize his need to see, speak to, or think about Jane Shepard.

If she wants space, he'll give her space.  And really, now he wants it too.

After lunch one day, Liara asks him if he could stop by to chat about some ship upgrades.  He agrees but doesn't bother.  Liara was never a good liar, and though being Shadow Broker has helped immensely, he can see the worry in those big blue eyes.  And he is definitely _not_  interested.

Two shifts later, he walks into the Battery to get some rest and there she is, leaning against the main console.  It should tell him something about the state he's in that he's completely blindsided by it.

"What happened?"

Great, straight to the point then.  But his mood is sour and he doesn't want to play nice.  "Nothing."

"Garrus," she scolds, getting up.  With a hand on his shoulder, she looks at him and forces him to meet her eyes.  "Shepard's been off lately, you're clearly not happy... what happened?"  There's none of the scolding he expected, just a gentle curiosity.

He sighs heavily.  He doesn't want to do this.  He lets the seconds tick by, counting them by the beats of his heart (which is so loud, dammit).  They both know he's just forestalling the inevitable.

"I showed her."  There's more he wants to say, about how Shepard reacted and the fight afterward.  But he doesn't have the energy for it.  And it's enough, he thinks, to say that much.  

"Oh, Garrus."  He hates pity and he's not overly fond of hugs, but he accepts them both with a bit of relief.  Maybe letting her know isn't the worst thing.

"I don't understand," she says, carefully, as though she's measuring each word, as she pulls away.  "Is it... is it that you waited so long?"  

He shrugs.  "Not really.  She doesn't think I care about _her_ , just the marks."  

Liara makes a face.  Best he can tell, it's somewhere between aghast and taken aback.  "What?"  There's no need to elaborate, though.  As an asari, even a young one, she must have encountered this line of thinking before.  People who don't trust that their soulmate actually loves _them_  but rather the _idea_  that they're soulmates.  That's the type of thing that can break a couple apart.   _Has_  broken plenty.  What's one more?

"That's actually... extremely stupid, and I never took Shepard an idiot.  Stubborn and impulsive, maybe, but certainly not-"

"Liara, focus."

"Right.  Sorry.  I just... can't fathom that Shepard can't see how much you lo... care for her."  

Neither can he.  He's worn it on his sleeve probably since before he was even aware of it.  Something disguised as hero worship at first, even if she wasn't a hero back then the way she is now.  Long ago it evolved into something else, camaraderie and friendship, then lovers and he dares not put a name on what he feels now.  All he can truly say is that it's real, bone deep.  

And Shepard doesn't give a damn about it.  Doesn't want to hear it.  No matter what it is, all he can feels i that it's not good enough.  

Liara must see as much in the way he holds himself.  She gives his shoulder a firm squeeze.  "She'll come around."

He wishes he could believe that.

\- - - -

The days start to run together.  He barely notices.  He probably would forget to eat if Tali or Liara didn't occasionally pester him.  Vega seems to be making an effort to invite him to bars or even just down to work on weapon mods.  At first he goes, but more often than not he declines.  

His work starts to suffer.  At least, he thinks it does.  Things are strange with the war - he doesn't really have a boss, not really, and though Shepard's his commanding officer she hasn't given him feedback since the SR-1.  But he knows he's not putting in his best effort (which is probably another reason to avoid field missions - no reason to put the crew at risk).

And he finds his mind wandering.  Drifting, actually, since he's not really thinking about anything in particular.  He loses track of time and finds he's just been staring at some point on the wall.  

Any of these things alone should concern him.  All of them together more so.  

He can't muster up the energy to care.

\- - - -

There's a meeting going on a floor up, something about Eden Prime.  At least that's what he heard.  Garrus is once again skipping the briefing in favor of other tasks.  Instead he'll be working with Victus.

The Primarch was recently transferred to a turian vessel to better oversee their offensive strike (really more _defensive_ , he corrects glumly) against the Reapers.  Garrus regularly keeps in contact as a means of helping to coordinate Alliance and Hierarchy military responses.  It's tedious work at best, but it's important so he keeps at it.

He commandeers the conference room to open up a comm channel.  With Shepard and a few squad members preparing to deploy, he figure sit's a good time to get some work done without the risk of running into anyone he'd rather not have to talk to.

(Not that there's anyone on the ship he particularly wants to deal with right now.  But that's a separate issue.)

The call goes through relatively quickly, meaning the Primarch was expecting him.  They quickly go through a greeting before Victus sighs and starts setting aside some of the datapads strewn across his desk.

"Problem?"  He realizes at the same does Victus does how stupid his question is.

"Only about a million," and there's only the slightest bit of annoyance, "But this one's new."

"Anything I can help with?"  Problems require thinking.  Thinking requires focus.  Focusing on something that isn't how shitty he feels is always a plus.

Victus considers.  Whether he's wondering if Garrus can actually help or if the younger turian has the necessary clearance to discuss the matter with, he can't be sure.

"Possibly."  He hesitates a second longer before seemingly giving up and plowing on.  "The Hierarchy is scouting for soldiers with experience fighting Reaper forces to train younger recruits."  The fact that they're desperate for new troops goes unsaid.  "I'm looking through some candidates, and since you've been in the field considerably more than I have, perhaps you could help me evaluate them."

"I'll do it."  He doesn't even need to think about it.

"Garrus..."  His voice is even but there's a warning in his subvocals.  "This isn't something you'd be able to do from the Normandy."

"I'm aware."

The warning disappears and now he hears nothing but a trilling curiosity.  "You'd be gone for weeks, at least.  Won't you be missed here?"

"They'll manage.  It's not permanent."

"If you're sure-"

"I am."

They finish discussing the details, arrange a ship to rendez vous with the Normandy.  There's one near Eden Prime, so it's actually perfect timing.  After a few other issues, not related to this impromptu assignment he's taking on, are hammered out, they close the comm channel.  

 _Weeks_!  He'll be gone for _weeks_.  It's the best damn news he's heard in a while.  And it's probably the lightest his heart has felt in a while.

\- - - -

Calling his departure an "escape" makes it sound cowardly.  Probably because it is, in a way.  He doesn't tell anyone, just packs up a few things.  He gets his duties squared away with a few of the Alliance crew he thinks are up to it.  They eye him suspiciously but agree.  (Because he's actually giving up control of the guns?  Maybe because he's actually in a good mood?  Or maybe he's just imagining it.)

The squad heading to Eden Prime is already gone by the time the turian ship arrives.  He has a slight argument with Joker, who is damn near appalled that Garrus would be leaving.  It takes him some convincing to open up the cargo bay and maintain an acceptable path for docking.  

"If this is about Shep-"  Joker visibly flinches at the glare Garrus gives him and shuts up.  

He sends her a message, as formal as he can manage, explaining his absence.  The details are vague, not just because he knows very few of them at the moment but mostly because he really just doesn't give a damn.  If she can disappear to Omega and not tell the crew, he can leave to help his own people.  

As the shuttle door closes and leaves the Normandy behind, it still feels a bit like running away.

\- - - -

Liara and Tali are pissed.  Actually, that's probably an understatement.  They are _livid_.  Tali more so that he didn't say anything to her.  That's easily remedied with an apology and some begging for forgiveness.  

Liara, well, she knows the whole story doesn't she.  She ignores the crap he gives her about wanting to help the turians and focuses in on the "being somewhere he's wanted" line he didn't quite mean to slip in.  

"You're wanted here."

He rolls his eyes and stops himself.  It's a human trait, one he picked up years ago and that gets him shit when he's with other turians.  Which he now is.  Again.  So back to actively trying to blend in with the species he's working with.  Honestly, he never thought he'd have to consciously _try_  to be turian.

(He never was a good turian.)

"Well, maybe _I_ don't want to be there."

There's silence on the other end of the comm.  The ship that's taking him to the training facility doesn't have the resources to allow for private video links.  He's immensely grateful for that.

"Garrus...  This is your home.  We're your family.  All of us have been through so much together.  We need you..."

_Not all of you._

"Liara," he snaps slightly.  He takes a deep breath before starting over.  It's not her he's upset with, after all.  "Liara, _I_ need to be off that damn ship.  For my own sanity."

Silence again.  Liara knows it's true, even if she doesn't want to admit it.  He's been gone a few hours and already he feels better.  Like a weight has been lifted off of him.  

"When will you be back?"

"A few weeks, maybe more."

"Maybe more?"  She's irritated again, that much is clear.  "If they ask you to stay after this batch of recruits, will you?"

"Maybe.  I haven't really planned that far ahead."

A sigh rings from the other end of the comm.  Obviously that's not what she wanted to hear, no matter how much she expected it.  "She misses you, you know."

He laughs.  "I haven't been gone long enough to be missed by anyone.  Doubt anyone would've noticed I was gone if Joker hadn't told you as soon as you were back on board."

There's a frustrated huff but no words for a moment.  He is right, after all.  The past few days (weeks? he's not even sure anymore) he's kept to himself so much there's no way she wasn't flat out _told_  he had left.  Hell, if they had been on the Citadel there's no telling how long it would've gone before someone actually noticed.  

"She _will_  miss you."

All he can do is give a non-committal grunt.  "I admire the sentiment, but I think you're trying to convince yourself more than me."

"Oh, she'll miss you alright."  There's an unspoken threat in the way Liara says it that makes Garrus almost feel sorry for whatever she's got planned.  Almost.  "Take care of yourself.  I expect to hear from you soon."

"You too.  Keep the crew in line and the guns working for me."

"I'm an archaeologist and information hoarder, Garrus.  I'm not really in a position to help with that."

"You underestimate yourself."

"Seriously, Garrus.  Stay safe."

They close the channel before Liara can get too mopey.  

\- - - -

Later, he gets a ping on his omni-tool.  Not a request for a transmission, like when he spoke with Tali and Liara.  No, it's instead a pre-recorded message.  He stares at the screen for a moment, noticing both the length of the message and its sender.  

Urgent Message from Commander Jane Shepard, 5.24 minutes.

Hope and anger war within him.

He deletes the message.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took longer than expected to get around to. I've had the outline done for a while, but I've been putting it off for unknown reasons. Just wasn't in the mood for this story, I guess? No idea! Hopefully the next update will be out in a more timely fashion :) Almost done this story (I think... it's gone on longer than anticipated so I guess it could continue to defy my expectations), probably another update or two depending on how long it takes to wrap things up.
> 
> As a side note, I spent some of my writing time last week working on a fluffy Shakarian story called [Academy Blues](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6601144) (just in case you need something to take your mind off the drama and angst that is this story).
> 
> And special thanks to [mordinette](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Mordinette/pseuds/Mordinette) for being so generous and beta reading for me :)

It's been years since Garrus has had to deal with turians this young.  They're not the gangly teens he remembered being when he did his military service (thank the Spirits for that much at least), but they're green enough that it feels a lot like babysitting.

Actually, it reminds him a lot of Grunt.

They're eager to learn to the point of impatience.  They're all on edge, especially when they make a mistake, ready to snap at each other.  But it doesn't take long for him to realize that some of the tension is from the stress of actually being at war.  He himself is too young to truly remember the Contact War, and even that would've been nothing like the threat of total annihilation that looms over them.

He does his best to focus that fear into something useful.  His days are filled with lecturing them on the types of Reaper forces he's encountered, their strengths and weaknesses.  Sessions with weapon and armor mods.  Drills and simulations of combat training.  

It's exhausting.  But only physically, which is definitely a nice change from his most recent time on the _Normandy_.  

\- - - -

The mark on his hand burns pretty much constantly.  The feeling is not unlike what he's come to associate with indoctrination, but instead of buzzing unpleasantly and making him itch, it's sharper.  Yet it's not as bad as when she's hurt or in danger.  And maybe he's just avoiding the obvious conclusion, because it takes him embarrassingly long to figure out it's because she's upset.

Because yes, he's felt this before, he thinks.  Her fury at the Illusive Man had rushed through him like an electric current.  But it had been short lived, just a single wave of emotion that had ebbed pretty quickly.  This, well, _this_  is constant.  A low grade heat that's easy to ignore most of the day.  At night it's the only sensation, no sights or sounds or problems to distract him, so it occupies all his thoughts.

So, Shepard's upset.

Which means... very little actually.  He's just guessing anger, but it could be anything, really.  Frustration.  Sadness.  Hell, he'd be willing to bet that a strong sense of boredom could do the trick if it weren't for her time in Vancouver being decidedly uneventful (both for her and for his mark).  Honestly, Garrus doesn't even know which one he hopes for more.  

Just that it'll pass.

He thinks back to that message he deleted.  Five minutes of... something.  Not for the first time, he wonders if he made a mistake by not at least hearing her out.  But there's barely enough room in him for his own disappointment and anger to make room for hers.  She didn't hear _him_  out, didn't give _him_  a chance.  

As he falls asleep that night, he wonders if they'll ever stop going out of their way to fuck this up.

\- - - -

About a week in, Garrus is cornered by one of the recruits after training.  She's a small, lithe thing with a waist most female turians would kill for.  Her green eyes are a great contrast to the yellow clan markings on her face (and damn, why did her eyes have to be _green_?).  Overall very attractive.

She more or less propositions him in the hallway on the way to dinner.  Somehow the whole encounter is surprisingly turian, so much though that it startles him.  He's again reminded of how much time he's spent among humans.  If he were younger, he would've probably taken her up on the offer.  

Now, he's so startled by the reality of it even happening that he's tongue-tied and barely stutters out a weak, "Wh- what?"

"My quarters are on the way to the mess hall, my roommate won't be back for at least an hour," she practically purrs.  

His neck is probably flushed an embarrassing shade of blue and his subvocals aren't doing him any favors.  He's probably radiating discomfort.  Which mercifully the recruit seems to pick up on.  "Or not."  

Once again he's thankful that this is a turian outpost, because that's that.  The embarrassment was completely unnecessary.  The recruit just shimmies off, a little bit of a bounce in her step when she catches up to her companions down the corridor.  He watches, baffled, but still a little relieved that he's saved from having to decline the offer or give an explanation.  

Thank the Spirits for that much at least.  What would he even say?  "No thanks, I'm still hung up on my human soulmate that I may or may not have broken up with recently.  Although the stress relief would be great, I don't think I'm up for it right now.  And good job with your sniping earlier, you've got a real talent."

 _Actually,_  he thinks, _that probably would have been fine._

Still, he avoids sitting with any of the recruits while he eats that night.  The awkwardness is all in his head, but he feels it acutely like an itch.

At least it keeps his mind off the mark... until he wonders what Shepard would think of the situation.  If she'd be jealous like with Dr. Michel (which he's convinced had been entirely innocent on the doctor's part, whereas this was decidedly _not_ ).  Or if she'd encourage him to go for it.  Worse yet, she might just shrug and tell him she genuinely doesn't care.

Fuck, he needs a drink.

\- - - -

It's been nearly two weeks, and though he misses being on the _Normandy_ , his head is a lot clearer.  It solidifies in his mind that it was a good idea to put some space between him and Shepard.  She'd asked for it, after all, and avoiding each other on the ship was next to impossible.  

He's centered and feeling more like himself than he has in a while.  The only thing is the increasing pressure radiating from his right hand.  It's never more than a gentle heat, shy of being painful, but a nuisance nonetheless.  

Tali, Joker, and Vega keep in touch with him.  Joker's all business.  Well, there are also a lot of snarky comments, but overall it's just mission summaries and crew updates.  And there is this one strange talk they have about EDI that has Joker blushing and Garrus seriously confused (but definitely intrigued - if EDI is sentient, can she get her own soulmate mark?).

Vega asks all about the training.  The marine's genuinely interested, offering suggestions about different drills to run, all modified from his own experiences with the Alliance.  A couple times he seems like he's about to mention Shepard, or he'll refer to her casually without realizing it, and then deliberately redirect the whole conversation.  

He appreciates the effort, he supposes, but at one point outright tells James that it's unnecessary.  He doesn't need to walk on eggshells around him.  Garrus maybe isn't over whatever the hell happened (is happening?), but there's no reason for Vega to feel uncomfortable.  With a shaky laugh, the marine nods.  And then continues to keep doing it.

With Tali, it's more about "feelings".  How does he "feel" being away from the _Normandy_?  How does he "feel" about the recruits he's training?  How does he "feel" being with turians again?  He spends half the conversation stuttering out vague replies and trying to get her to talk about _anything_ else.

Liara is suspiciously quiet.  No new messages, no video chats, no replies to his own attempts to contact her, nothing.  He's not so much worried as slightly unnerved.

\- - - -

Garrus has had his fair share of bad luck.  Good luck, too, he supposes, but it's usually easier to remember the bad.  But he's in the middle of a war and the shit storm that is his personal life, so it's not at the forefront of his mind.  Bad things are constantly happening, any news feed or comm line that crackles to life has an over abundance of examples to show you that.  

Maybe it's a sort of complacency.  It's all already pretty sucky, it's not like it's going to get any worse.  

But it can always get worse.

\- - - -

The alarms start going off in the middle of the night, all throughout the compound.  He's half-asleep when he checks the monitor by his cot.  A turian colony in the system is under attack by Reaper forces.  They need support while they attempt to either fight them off (given their size, this isn't a viable option) or buy them time to evacuate.  Well, fuck.

He's out of bed and pulling on armor, mentally going through lists of recruits and combing out the most qualified.  If they're fast, they can be there within an hour, maybe two.

The other instructors want to come, but they agree that not all of the trainees are ready for combat.  Three of the seven instructors agree to stay, and somehow along the way Garrus takes it upon himself to lead the rest of them.  They easily defer to his expertise, and he wonders when the hell he became respectable.  

The recruits are all gathered in the mess hall, the only space big enough for all of them.  They gathered when the heard the alarms, but clearly they don't know what's going on.  As Garrus walks toward the small raised platform at the far side, he hears them whispering amongst themselves.  

_"Is this a drill?"_

_"Are we under attack?"_

_"What's going on?"_

When he gets up onto the platform with the other instructors, he pauses a moment before he realizes he's somehow in charge of this and it's his responsibility to actually say something.  

"The Maurion Colony in this system is under Reaper attack and is requesting assistance so that they can evacuate.  The colony is too small and under-equipped to mount any resistance.  We're answering the call for support.  Lieutenant Vaponia, Sergeants Quinus and Gatis, and I will be leading a small contingent of you who we feel are the most qualified and best trained to deal with the situation.  Blue, green and red companies, grab your gear and head immediately to the hangar.  We leave in twenty.  The rest of you will remain here."  He pauses for a moment, letting it all sink in.  "Dismissed."  

And to show the urgency behind it, he himself immediately leaves.

\- - - -

There are already Hierarchy ships in orbit - seven by his count - holding the Reaper forces at bay.  They're not large, completely military, so the only support they can provide is here in space.  Any larger transport ships must already be on the ground, where they'll be helping.

One of their ships is shot down as it approaches the planet, another is badly damaged as it makes its final descent.  Garrus' transport is lucky to have little more than a few shots fired at it, which the pilot easily avoids.  It doesn't make it any easier to swallow the fact that some of the recruits - young turians _he himself_  had trained - are already dead.

And they haven't even started the fight.

Garrus' squads are positioned at the southern most edge of the colony.  It happens to be where the housing structures are.  He quickly orders them to set up a perimeter and start helping civilians towards evacuation sites.  And then he heads into where the combat seems to be the worst, because he's Garrus Vakarian and apparently is an idiot.

Not that he realizes just how bad it's gotten.  Sure, he sees the body and the rubble and hears the screams.  But it's a fire fight and something he's just so used to.  He finds one of the few remaining structures tall enough to provide a decent view, heads up, and sets up shop with his rifle.  It also gives him a great vantage point for coordinating efforts among the trainees.

They're doing well.  He's proud of what they're doing and doing everything he can to keep his mind away from counting how many are left.  That's something he can drive himself crazy with later, when they're back to the relative safety of the training compound... Which they'll probably need to relocate, since the Reapers are now in this system.

Maybe these thoughts are what distract him.  Maybe it's that complacency he's developed over the past few years with Shepard.  If you can survive a suicide mission, anything and everything else seems by definition not as bad.  Maybe it's just fate.

He's always said that somewhere out there, there's a bullet with his name on it.  Once it was actually a missile, and that's the one he thought was going to do it.  So perhaps it's only fitting that it's a missile this time, too.

And sure, he notices the Marauders collecting at the farthest edges of his sniper range.  Far enough that he's not even sure he could hit them, so he leaves them to the others.  And yeah, they seem to be setting something up.  But his scope doesn't give him a clear enough picture and there's so much else to occupy his attention.  Why he doesn't put two and two together, though...

Distraction.  

Complacency.  

Fate.

Once the missile is fired, he takes notice immediately.  Two seconds is all it takes for him to figure out where it's headed and guess how much time he has.  Barely enough time to get to his feet and _jump_.  

He lands awkwardly, the shock absorbers in his boots help but it was a three story drop.  There's no time to try and get up before the missile hits a little to the left of where he'd been perched.  The debris starts raining down and he's starting to get to his feet, to get away, when he's hit.

With ears ringing, he's face down on the ground.  His vision's doubled (not that there's much to see through the muck now covering his helmet.  The debris is still falling and he knows it's hitting him, but the fog in is head numbs the pain.  There's a throbbing in his side, and he wonders if the wetness he notices is blood or his imagination.

The last thought to creep through his mind as he loses consciousness is, what an embarrassing way to go - dying in front of his own recruits.

(And maybe if his mind drifts to Shepard, you couldn't fault him for that either.)


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hate writing dream sequences. I can imagine them, could probably do a better job of drawing or filming them to get them across (except for drawing/film are not areas in which I possess any talent). Not much else to say for this update - Garrus and Shep really need to sit down and hash things out, which they will do next update.
> 
> Thank you again to the lovely [mordinette](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Mordinette/pseuds/Mordinette) for beta reading and offering suggestions/advice

When he wakes up he's groggy, not all there.  Time has passed, or hasn't passed.  Or he's somewhere else now, he's not sure.  Something's different, but he's forgotten.  Looking around only answers one of the questions and leaves an ache where the others still fester.

Palaven.  The sky darkened, dusk.  He's in a field peppered with rubble, everything dead and empty, but that makes no sense.  He hasn't even been planet side since-

_"Immediate Evac!"_

_"The training camp-"_

_"No... compromised... the Citadel-"_

The thought disappears before it truly forms, a memory to examine at a later time.

He walks through the field and it's like walking through sand.  It takes all of his focus to move one foot in front of the other.  With all the effort he's exerting just to move, it's frustrating that he makes such little progress.  The endless field of waste stretches before him, unchanging.  No hills or buildings break the skyline.  It just goes on and on, a vast barren nothingness.  

A shudder passes through him.  He's not sure why.

_"- won't like it..."_

_"Too late to-"_

_"- just GO!"_

He must trip on something, because he's falling.  The ground doesn't catch him, he slips right through making him even more disoriented when he finally does land.  His arms reach out reflexively to balance himself and only then does he realize he's on a catwalk.  A brief look around tells him he's on Omega.  He's not really sure how he can possibly know that, since whenever he tries to focus on the details, they shift.  The world is only a fixed thing when he's not paying attention to it.  

There's a name for that type of experience, but he can't quite grasp it.  So instead he walks.

The catwalk stretches on forever and ever.  Until he turns away for a moment.  When he turns back, he nearly walks into a door.  It looks familiar, his fingers automatically going to the console to key in a code.  The movement is silent, _everything’s_  silent, and that's unsettling.  He's numb all over, and a memory tickling the back of his mind suggests that's probably a good thing.  Numbness is better than the alternatives, after all.  

_"- going into shock-"_

_"Dammit, keep pressure on it-"_

_"Not gonna matter if we don't-"_

The door opens slowly and without a sound.  As it opens, black water gushes out.  Coldness overtakes him, weighing him down as much as the water.  He kicks and thrashes wildly for what little good it does.  Wave after wave pushes him over, a heavy weight on his chest.  His armor pulls him down and he's blind, somehow losing track of which way's up.  He never could swim very well and panic grips his chest.  

Realization that he's drowning ( _dying_ , his mind corrects, not really accepting of the way it's happening, just that it _is_  happening) spreads through his consciousness.  

_"Stabilized... transfusion... find a match somewhere-"_

_"- make it?"_

_"Fuck if I know-"_

His body, useless, is nothing but a buoy.  There's no air but that doesn't seem to matter.  The current rocks him back and forth, though the water's not as demanding and choppy as it was before.  He drifts, always with the threat that he could be pulled back under at any moment.  His attempts to move his arms and legs are feeble at best, not strong enough to fight the pull on him, so eventually he just gives up.

_"- I don't care!  You let me the fuck through-"_

_"Please, you'll disturb the other patients-"_

_"Do you even know who the fuck I am?"_

_"Of course-"_

_"Then let me in before I-"_

There are hands on him, pulling him up.  They're strong and sure, both qualities he's sorely lacking at the moment.  They pull him out of the water and hold him tight, whispering secrets in his ears and soothing his frayed nerves.  It's still dark, but not the impenetrable gloom of the water.  He can't see, can't speak, can't even hear the words being said to him.  But he feels a calm presence (calm isn't quite right, either - it feels like there's untapped energy beneath the surface being held back but only just so) and soaks it in.  Lets it heat him up from the inside out.

_"You don't get to die on me, Vakarian."_

\- - - -

When Garrus truly wakes up - actually opens his eyes and takes in the world around him, able to acknowledge that it's real and no longer a dream - it takes some time.  Things come into focus slowly, images and thoughts alike.  As each new piece of information makes itself known to him, he catalogs it carefully.

He is in a hospital.  The smell of antiseptic is too strong for it to be an improvised med bay.  The chatter from other patients and any nearby doctors is muted enough that he must be in a private room.  That means resources, which means he's not on a ship either.

Everything hurts.  His body is bruised and there's a numbness in his midsection that screams of meds keeping the true pain at bay.  It'll no doubt hurt like a bitch when they wear off and he's forced to feel it.  The mark on his right hand stings, a buzzing sort of irritation he can't quite identify.  He'll worry about that later.

His thinking is muddled.  The pain killers are obviously stronger than he's used to (probably because he generally refuses any).  They're fucking with his head and he hates it.  It only feels like he's been going through this process, this slow breakdown of what's around him, for a few minutes.  But he knows it's taking longer than that.  

He's not dying.  No doctors have come to check on him, so he must be okay.  And though he feels like shit, he's pretty sure he's felt _more_  like shit in the past.  Once he can tell them to stop pumping drugs into his system, he'll have a better idea of what shape he's in.  Yet he's confident he's seen the worst of it. 

(That does lead to a brief consideration of whether he _was_  dying.  It had felt like that in the dream hellscape he'd been in.  Stuck between life and death until someone made the decision for him and forced him to stay alive.  Maybe later he can unpack whether or not they made the right decision.)

All of this he does while staring at the ceiling.  The stiffness in his neck feels suspiciously like whiplash, but at any rate it's keeping him from wanting to move too much.  With a sigh, he gives in to the necessity of examining the rest of his surroundings.  

The blandness of the walls and decor reinforce his conclusion that this is a hospital room.  The window to his left has been dimmed so that barely any light comes through, but he can still parse out the hustle and bustle outside.  The thought makes him think Citadel and some memory tickling the back of his mind makes him think that's correct.

He gives a cursory glance to the monitors hooked up to him.  They're surprisingly quiet, which he assumes must be a good thing.  His medical training is too limited for him to make sense of the numbers and equipment, so he chooses to ignore it.  That's what doctors are for.

Bracing himself for discomfort, Garrus turns his head to now examine the right side of the room.  There's a small table in the corner with some gaudy looking flower arrangement, a door muffling the sound of people passing busily in the hallway, and a figure draped over the side of his bed.

He squints and blinks a few times.  There's no reason to - his eyes adjusted to the dim lighting long ago - but what he sees makes so little sense that he just can't believe it.

Because there is Jane Shepard, sitting in a chair next to his hospital bed, passed out.  And try though he might to make the image disappear, she stubbornly remains.  He wonders if it really even matters whether she's really there or she's just a figment of his imagination.  

Accepting it, he reaches out to take her hand in his.  

It's warm and soft, yet calloused.  It flexes slightly in his grasp and she stirs but doesn't wake.  It doesn't seem like a dream, but he's well aware that it's probably just wishful thinking.  

With Shepard's hand carefully tucked under his own, he drifts back off to sleep.

\- - - -

The next time he comes to, it's not slow and gently eased by a groggy transition.  It happens abruptly.  Waking up earlier has acquainted him with this room well enough that he doesn't waste time trying to decipher what's happened.  Instead he can focus on the finer points.

He sits up and stretches a bit to test the extent of his injuries.  There's tenderness for sure, but nothing that should give him trouble.  A gentle poke at his side tells him what he already suspected - the injury there is by far the worst, but there's a raw pain radiating out from it that means they've reduced his meds if not stopped them altogether.  Good, he should be able to leave.

(And he does make note of the fact that he's alone.  Whatever, whomever he thought he saw when he first woke up, well, that was just a dream like the rest of it.)

Bed rest is something he loathes, and he determines that he's feeling well enough to leave.  He's sure there are some doctors out there who will argue, but if he's quick and gets dressed it'll help.  Maybe if he's lucky he can walk right out of here and figure out what happened with the Maurion colony.

A quick search reveals his armor in the closet.  Examining it makes him think that he wasn't shot so much as impaled in his abdomen.  Must have happened during the fall, or maybe it was a piece of debris.  

There are raised voices outside and there's almost something familiar about the cadence of it.  He dismisses it and starts putting on the armor.  His weapons aren't here, but he suspects those are with whatever turian transport brought him here.  Or at least he hopes so - the last thing Garrus wants is to have to spend time trying to find them.

The arguing is now right outside his room.  The door manages to block out the words, but one of the voices is definitely familiar.  He cocks his head slightly as he tries to listen, but then gives up and moves to put on his boots.  

Which is how Shepard finds him when she storms into the room.  Awkwardly bent over, pulling on his left boot while trying to balance on his right foot.  

Their eyes meet and they just stare.  Shepard's fuming from whatever she's been yelling about (and now that he sees her, he has no doubt she was the main source of the disturbance in the hallway).  He's frozen in place, wobbling on one foot and trying not to look like a child caught doing something he's not supposed to.

The standoff ends when Garrus nearly falls over.  Stumbling a bit to regain his balance (hopefully without looking too ridiculous - he's sure there could be nothing worse than giving Shepard a reason to laugh at him right now), he crosses his arms and tries to look relaxed.  It seems to snap them both out of it.  

"So," she says carefully, playing with the syllable a bit.  "You're up."

Fuck.

She gives him a once over, taking note of his armor.  "You going somewhere, Vakarian?"

His mouth is dry and he's pretty sure he wants to throw up.  This is the last thing he wants to deal with right now.  But he straightens up to his full height.  Not that it'll intimidate her.  He just needs to _do_  something.  "That was the plan," he drawls out.  Bit of bravado, dash of sarcasm.  Perfect.

There's something in her eyes, cold and hard and _furious_  if he has to try and name it.  He's reasonably confident that it's not directed at him, just leftovers from whatever fight she'd been having in the hallway.  But he braces to bear the brunt of it anyway.

"You don't look bad for someone who was on death's door a few days ago."

Her voice feels like ice running through his veins.  He tries not to shudder.  "I doubt it was that bad."

"Oh, it most definitely was."

He makes a point of rolling his eyes.  "I'm fine."  He spreads his arms out for her to inspect, show the truth behind his words.  Okay, so maybe he's not at a hundred percent right now, but he's in no immediate danger.  "You know how doctors always like to exaggerate, make it more miraculous when they save you."

Shepard's grinding her teeth.  "Who said anything about any fucking doctors.   _I'm_ telling you, you were dying."

For lack of anything better to do, he blinks at her.  Shepard's not prone to being over-dramatic, which leaves Garrus stuck taking her word for it.  Still, she must sense a challenge in his silence.

"It felt like someone was drilling a hole straight into the back of my head.  Do not fucking tell _me_  how bad it was or wasn't."

Oh.  Shit.  He'd forgotten that the warning feeling his mark's given him over the past few years goes both ways.  Whoops.  No wonder she's here.  If circumstances were different, he'd almost feel bad for the panic he clearly caused.

"Okay," he concedes slowly, arms up in a placating gesture.  The full reality of his condition is as of yet unknown to him.  He just knows how he felt versus how he currently feels.  Best to just admit _something_.  "It wasn't great-"

" _Wasn't great_ , he says-"

"But I _am_  fine now."  Her eyes flash a little but she looks away.  It surprises him how easily she gives up the point, making him think the doctors here have spent a great deal of time assuring her of that very same fact.

She mutters something under her breath.  He's willing to ignore the childish gesture for now.

"Shepard."  And maybe he should try a little harder to hide the exasperation in his voice, but he feels tired all of a sudden.  Weary, more so than the injuries can account for.  The two of them used to fit so well together, used to be each other's strength.  Now it's just draining trying to dance around each other.  "Sorry if you came all the way out here for nothing, but it _is_  nothing."

"It is not friggin nothing!" she shouts.  Not Jane Shepard, Alliance Commander, shouting.  No, this is different and terrifying in its own right.  "You were out there, somewhere," she waves a hand at the window, "getting shot at by Reapers with nothing but fucking _recruits_  watching your six.  You almost _died_  out there.  Did you even think about that before you went gallivanting around some no name system, huh?  That you might never come back?"

He takes a moment to consider how to answer that.  Shepard's upset, and usually this is where he backs off a bit and tries to calm her down.  But since hiding things is what got them here in the first place, well, better just lay all the cards on the table.  

"Yes.  I did think about that."  Her face darkens with accusation before he cuts her off and continues.  "I didn't think I was going to die.  But I wasn't sure if I was ever coming back to the _Normandy_."

It's kind of a shitty thing to say, but he's not pulling his punches right now.  If she wants to do this here and now, then fine.

"So you were just going to _leave_ , the hell to everything else?"

He almost laughs at that.  "You left first, as I recall.  Omega was a, what does Joker call it?  A dick move?  Just following your lead, Commander."

"I came back-"

"Congratulations on that, by the way."

If humans were capable of it, he suspects she would snarl in frustration.  Instead, her fists clench and there's just the slight charge in the air like biotics about to light up.  And it would work, no doubt, as an intimidation tactic against damn near anyone else.  But this is him and Shepard.  He knows her temper pretty well, and yeah she's probably pissed enough that she'd love to beat the shit out of something, but it's not going to manifest in a physical fight between them right now.

She must see that.  Some of it, anyway.  Sees his casual, disinterested stance and hear the bite in his voice and his words.  The fight just drains right out of her and she looks more tired and fragile than he can remember ever seeing her.

"Can we just not do this right now?"  There's not even any anger left in her tone.  She sounds defeated more than anything else.  

Part of him is annoyed that the display of weakness is pulling at his heart strings so much.  Because she fucking started this, right?  She wanted space, _which he gave her_ , and now she's the one who's acting hurt?  Why should _he_ feel bad for _her_ right now?  

"Feeling a little guilty, are we?"  Shepard winces and he allows himself to be petty enough to enjoy it.  "Help sneak me out of here and we have a deal."

As far as olive branches go, it's not great, but she perks up instantly.  With a smile that pulls him back to the SR-1, she says, "Sure.  I think we can manage a jailbreak."


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay! They’re making progress! Baby steps, amiright? This chapter doesn’t have a whole lot of plot to it... It’s mostly taking care of things (either resolving issues from the last update or setting up things for later chapters). I suspect there is some talk and feelings coming up soon, though. Both of which are much needed.
> 
> And guys, say thanks to [mordinette](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Mordinette/pseuds/Mordinette) for helping me edit :)

Shepard opens the door and scans the hallway.  She's not exactly subtle about it, either, but Garrus refrains from commenting.  Pleased that it's all clear, she gestures for him to follow.  He hesitates, automatically moving to take point, before he remembers that this is a damn hospital, not a battlefield.  So he speeds up and then matches strides with her. 

Walk anywhere with enough confidence and no one stops to question you.  The same apparently applies to escaping from hospitals.  All he has to do is follow Shepard's lead and assume she knows the fastest (or at least least crowded) way out.

"Don't look so damn pleased with yourself," she hisses at him as they round a corner.  "They're swamped with patients and probably didn't think you'd be able to walk out of here on your own yet."

"You kidding?  I am escaping unnecessary captivity just by _walking_ past people.  I'm allowed to be a little smug."  They have to stop briefly as two doctors rush down the hallway past them.  Once they're clear, they keep moving.  He considers a moment before asking, "Why are you here?"

"I told you, felt like my head was being split open-"

"Yes, you did mention that.  That's _how_ you knew, but I want to know _why_ you came."

She looks at him incredulously.  Like he's the biggest idiot she's ever had to deal with in her extensive career of dealing with idiots.  She opens her mouth to answer, and the way her eyes gleam in the light makes him think she's about to tear him a new one, when he's saved (ironically) by a doctor.

"Commander?"  There's both a demand and a question in the salarian's tone. 

The fact that she's calling over Shepard and not him is pretty telling that they haven't noticed him missing yet.  Garrus forces himself to _not_ look as Shepard pushes him aside to go talk to the doctor.  The last thing he needs is for someone to recognize him and send him back to the nightmarish purgatory that is being a healthy patient waiting for hospital bureaucracy to catch up to that fact.

"Just leave," she mutters as she gestures left down the next hallway.  "I'll meet you by C-Sec."

He doesn't slow down as she breaks off to handle the doctor.  With a confidence that he doesn't usually feel but has gotten damn good at faking over the years, he walks right past the front desk and out into the Citadel proper.  C-Sec isn't actually all that close, so he wonders at Shepard's choice.  And then wonders if he should bother meeting her there - he has other things he needs to take care of (and yeah, maybe there's a bit of avoidance at play too).

Weighing his options, he figures he may as well meet up with her.  Which is good, considering his feet have carried him to C-Sec all on their own.

"Traitors," he grumbles. 

Garrus leans against a wall, rests his weight heavily on his left leg so that his still tender right side doesn't hiss in protest.  Not much, anyway.  There's part of him that should probably feel a little guilty about ditching the hospital, but the galaxy's going to shit and there's got to be someone out there who needs that room more than him. 

He spends a good couple minutes slowly making his way through his body, just to make sure that's true.  His right side isn't great, he'll admit that much.  Getting impaled will do that to you.  His right leg is a bit sore too.  Must've fallen on that side when he jumped.  But everything else seems in order, if not a bit stiff from being laid up in bed for a couple days.

Before he can follow that thought too far (just _how long_ was he out), he catches a familiar looking gait approaching.

"Well," and Shepard somehow manages to sound both annoyed and amused.  "Turns out you're _not_ dying, and they plan on keeping you for observation for another couple days before releasing you."

"I'm sure that'll go well."

She makes a non-committal noise at that.  "Why'd you want out of there so bad, anyway?"

"I hate hospitals."  They remind him of weakness.  Not from being sick or injured, that's just an unavoidable nuisance in his line of work.  No, it reminds him of the impotence he's felt all his life in the wake of his mother's illness.

"You never seem to take issue with Chakwas-"

"Not a hospital, it's a medbay.  And I'm not overly fond of it either, I just know how to keep my mouth shut unlike _some_ people."

"Alright."  She bites her bottom lip as though she wants to say more.  He waits, long enough that the pause is starting to become awkward, but nothing. 

Finally, just barely holding back a sigh, it falls on him to break the silence.  "So I'll be heading to the turian consulate-"

"Why?"

He starts a bit because why?  Why not?  "Because I work for the Hierarchy...?"

Shepard's hands rest on her hips and she chews the inside of her cheek.  She's not quite _glaring_ but there's a hard look to her eyes that he doesn't think the situation warrants.  They're habits he associates with aggravation, things she's done when talking to Udina and al-Jilani.  Perhaps it shouldn't surprise him to see it turned on him, given their recent circumstances. 

Doesn't mean he understands the cause of this particular annoyance.

"Thought you'd be coming back on the _Normandy_."

"Oh.  _Oh_ -  I hadn't really...  Well, if the system was invaded, they probably moved...  But I don't know if I was technically dismissed...  I mean, I might-"

"Vakarian?"

"Yes?"

"You're babbling."

"Right."  His mandibles twitch.  "I'll just... shut up then."

"Look, I don't know if I've made it clear that I _want_ you back on the _Normandy_.  That I would very much like having you back on board.  But," and there's a slightly pained look in her eyes, "if the Hierarchy wants you and _you_ want to keep working with them..."  She lets the thought and implications trail off between them. 

He's dumbfounded for a bit.  So much so that he kinda just blurts out, "This is the first time you've actually taken into consideration what I want."  A few weeks ago, he's pretty sure those would have been fighting words. 

Apparently not today.

"Yeah."  There’s self-deprecating little laugh that rings false.  "I'm working on that."

"Oh."  He's a little suspicious, but hopefully hides it well enough behind a terse, "Thanks." 

Spirits, this is awkward.

"So, I should go...  Let you find out what's going on with," she gestures vaguely in random directions, "everything."  She turns away and avoids looking at him as she adds, "I'd love to see you on the _Normandy_ though, even if you're not staying.  Just to..."  She shrugs, and he wonders if he's actually managed to get Commander Shepard to babble.  "And I'm sure the crew would love to see you.  Tali won't shut up about you, and you know Liara's been asking, and I think Joker-

"Shepard?"

"Yeah?"

"I'll stop by."

"Okay.  Good.  Right, I'll uh- I'll see you in a bit, then."  There's a sigh of relief in there, somewhere, before she turns and walks off.

Had it always been this hard between them?  Was it always this dance, trying not to upset the other while in turn not getting upset?

No, unfortunately it had once been easy.  So fucking easy that it was just second nature.  The SR-1 held its share of awkwardness, no doubt, but once they got used to one another, learned the other's quirks...  Ugh, it'd been the easiest relationship he'd ever had.  So easy to be friends and colleagues.  The transition to lovers so seamless it felt like no change at all.  Fuck, he'd fallen in love so fast he didn't even notice it happening until it was too late.

Spirits help him, he hopes to get that feeling of "home" he knew with Shepard back.

\- - - -

He's shuffled around for a bit by some secretaries, not sure what to do with him.  That is of course until the turian councilor spots him and does a double take.  Then there's a bit of yelling that Garrus' concerns, whatever they might be etc. etc., should have been handled _immediately_. 

"Uh," he's almost hesitant to interrupt, but there's a war going on and all that, there's no time to waste on this kind of crap.  "How about we focus on getting it fixed _now_ instead of how it hasn't already been dealt with?"

To his surprise - and really, at this point in his career maybe he should stop underestimating himself - he's put on a comm link with the Primarch.  Which is a damn relief, because if there's anyone who's going to cut the crap and get shit done, it's Victus.

"I heard you'd been shot."

"Impaled, actually.  Maybe shot too, I'm a little fuzzy on the details."

"I was also informed not twenty minutes ago that you'd gone missing from the hospital they'd moved you to."

"Well, I'm not missing anymore."

"Clearly."  Although he has every right to be annoyed, Victus is more amused by the proceedings than anything else.  "And I suppose you haven't had a chance for a debriefing?"

"No, hadn't gotten around to that."

While Victus gives a brief overview of the failed assault and the subsequent evacuation of that system, someone hands him a datapad.  It's a list of names - trainees from the facility he was working at, each name marked either MIA or KIA.  Although at the bottom there's a summary listing numbers, he forces himself to read each name one by one.  To feel the losses individually instead of writing them off as some statistic. 

"Garrus?"

Shit, he was too busy reading that he's missed something.  "Sorry, could you repeat-"

"There's nothing you could have done for them.  This is war, there are casualties.  Our job, as leaders, is to make note of their efforts, to honor their sacrifices, and keep going for the greater good of those left behind."

"I know."  His throat is dry, and when'd it get so damn hot in here?  "But knowing and doing are a bit different."

"That they are."

"I'd like to get back to work."

For the first time since they opened the channel, Victus pauses.  "And when you say that, what do you envision yourself doing?"

"I could move to another training site, I know you had a couple-"

"We've already re-arranged the survivors from your facility - instructors and recruits alike - and we simply don't have the need for another instructor at the moment." 

There's an elephant in the room and they both know it.  Victus is being decent enough to let Garrus bring it up first, but if he keeps being stubborn he has no doubt the older turian will force the topic anyway. 

"Do I have leave to return to my post on the _Normandy_?"

It's what he wants, anyway.

Sort of.

There's approval in Victus’ subvocals when he answers, "Of course, Garrus.  I'll have your personal effects sent there immediately.  And I'll take care of the hospital."

Garrus nods his thanks, both to Victus and the staff in the room, then turns and heads out.  His stomach is turning in knots that he wishes he could blame on hunger, but it's got everything to do with where he's going and who he's going to be seeing again.  At least he has the walk back to the ship to collect himself.

\- - - -

Needless to say, when he arrives at the _Normandy_ and requests permission to board, he can _hear_ Joker's balking.  "Garrus Vakarian?  _The_ Garrus Vakarian, on our doorstep?  Wanting to come aboard?  I just don't know if you're _allowed_ given how you _abandoned your post_ -"

"Joker," EDI's electronic voice rings out, "Commander Shepard specifically stated that Garrus was allowed entry onto the ship.  Would it not be an act of insubordination to ignore that order?  Although the brig has been converted into extra storage space, I'm sure we could find another area to re-purpose for the task."

"Oh my _god_ , EDI-"  But the comm cuts out as the doors open to start the decontamination process.

"Thanks EDI.  And good job on the teasing, Joker needs someone like you to keep him in line."

"Bite me, Vakarian."

He bypasses the CIC as much as possible and heads directly to Engineering.  The beginnings of panic try to make itself known (Where's Shepard?  Should he go talk to her now?  Or are they just going to ignore the- the _thing_?  Shit, what is he _doing_ here?), but he narrows everything down to a type of tunnel vision that allows him to focus on nothing but making it down to see Tali.

The great thing about tunnel vision is that it lets you focus on the problem at hand.  The bad thing is, you walk out of the elevator and into the brick wall that is another person.

He's not two steps out of the elevator, going over in his head how much he's willing to tell Tali and plans for diverting the conversation to the _Normandy_ 's recent missions, when he collides with Liara and someone else. 

"Garrus-"  He automatically reaches out to help her regain her balance, but other hands steady her first.  And that's when he actually _looks_ at the other person.

With all the finesse that he's obviously come to be known for, Garrus just outright stares and asks, "What the fuck are you?"

The being stands up to his full height, which is decently tall, and practically screams, "How _dare_ you!"  What it says is much more dignified. 

"I am Prothean."

Garrus opens his mouth to say something but snaps it shut, because what the hell do you say to that.  But etiquette seems to dictate he say _something_ , so he tries again.  "Oh.  Yes.  You are."

Liara's eyes are wide as she looks between them, stopping on Garrus only long enough to indicate how completely idiotic she thinks he's being.  He's inclined to agree with her.

"You are the turian that is mated with the commander, are you not?"

" _What?_ "

" _Javik-_ "

"You said the commander was mated to a turian.  This is a turian-"

"We're not _mated_ -"

"I- I didn't- This is not the time-"

The Prothean - Javik, apparently - looks completely unimpressed with both of them.  The words "inferior species" are written in the way he blinks at them before saying, "I am returning to the cargo hold."

Garrus can do nothing more than watch him walk away and hope his gaping isn't as obvious as it feels.  When he regains higher brain power again, he rounds on Liara and drawls out, "You'd think saying we have a live Prothean on board would have been worthy of note."

"If I thought it would've been relevant - or that you'd make an absolute _fool_ of yourself - I _would_ have mentioned it.  As it is..."  Liara shrugs and rolls her eyes, though he's pretty sure her exasperation is at least in part directed at the Prothean in question. 

"Yeah, I'm going to need an actual explanation because, well, you know.  Prothean.  On board.  _What the hell_?  And don't think I didn't notice that you didn't tell _me_ about _him_ , but apparently have no issue talking about my _private affairs_ with him."

She winces a bit.  "I apologize, but he's very... curious about Shepard.  It seems she's the only specimen worthy of note that he's come across."  Her expression is tight and he gathers this is a matter of annoyance to her.  Huh, he'll have to bug her about that later (after consulting with Tali first).  "Don't worry I'll- I'll fill you in.  But come on, let's get you settled back in first."


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the delay in getting this chapter up. I took a little break and did some more writing for [Academy Blues](http://archiveofourown.org/series/469303). I also had some things to think around in trying to get Shep more on the same page as Garrus, and figuring out how best to incorporate Javik. I think I've got most of that set in the right spots, so everything should be good to go for an actual resolution. I'm maybe a little optimistic in saying there's two chapters left? (haha who am I kidding, probably more the way I'm going...)
> 
> Fingers crossed, because although I've had fun working on this story I have other projects I'd love to write :)
> 
> Also, I don't really know how to write Javik. He's not a character I generally incorporate so I'm not sure if he comes across in character or not. Truth be told, I kinda write him like I write Vegeta...
> 
> Special thanks to [mordinette](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Mordinette/pseuds/Mordinette) for beta reading for me ^-^

The march towards engineering is far more somber than it needs to be, but something's on Liara's mind.  Garrus has the distinct feeling that it has little to do with _him_ so much as with the Prothean who just abandoned them.  He's more convinced that he needs to talk to Tali, find out if their very own asari is harboring a crush on their newest crew member.

Tali nearly squeals in delight when she sees him, jumping into an embrace he's only half ready for.  "Garrus!  You're not dead!" 

Her helmet presses awkwardly against his visor, but after the initial surprise wears off he reciprocates with a bruising bear hug.  "I'm too stubborn to die, you should know that by now." He spins her around and carefully puts her back on the ground.  It takes some effort, but he ignores the impulse to pat her head. 

"I didn't get a hug," Liara pouts, though they all hear the mocking undertone.

" _You_ let me babble like an idiot.  You don't _deserve_ a hug."  At Tali's confused head tilt, he points at her accusingly.  "You're not off the hook either.  Why didn't you tell me about the Prothean?"

"What?  And miss you making an ass of yourself?  No way!"

"But you _did_ miss it-"

"Yes," she says sadly.  "So I've gathered.  But Joker will probably let me watch the security footage."

The banter winds down a bit as they shift into business.  It takes surprisingly little to get him up to speed.  Javik is notably the more interesting mission (and only tangentially depressing, unlike everything else that is so _immediately_ tragic) they've encountered.  The rest of it is the same old stuff they've been dealing with for months.  Make alliances, buy time, try to kill some Reapers. 

Liara's called away before they're done, an exasperated huff of apology as she rushes off, and then it's Team Dextro back at it.  Garrus leans heavily against the console, subvocals trilling amusement. 

"So, Liara and Javik...?"  He trails off, lets her fill in the blanks. 

Tali pointedly looks the way the asari just left, which is about all the confirmation he needs.  "She can barely stand him."

"What, not living up to her expectations of meeting a real life Prothean?"

"Something like that.  Lock them in an empty room together and I'm not sure if they'd kill each other or try to, ahem, _work things out_."  He can hear Tali's embarrassment and nearly laughs at her reluctance to just say the words 'fuck it out.'  But he mercifully lets it go.  "Speaking of people who can barely stand each other."  And now she's leaving room in the conversation for him, actually lets him decide how to interpret that.

His first instinct is to deflect.  Make a sarcastic remark and move on to the next topic.  But fuck, there are things he needs to _know_ and Tali would be more than happy to sate his curiosity.  So he sucks it up, mentally prepares himself and asks, "How was she?"  _When I was gone.  When I left her.  When I abandoned the crew._   All of that, of course, remains unsaid.

If Tali's surprised that he's willing to talk about this, she doesn't show it.  "She was..."  The pause isn't to torture him, he knows that, but as Tali searches for the right words his heartbeat picks up a bit.  "Miserable, I suppose, would be the easiest way to put it.  Frustrated, though.  Angry.  Very short-tempered on ground missions.  Snapped at people all the time.  I thought - well, we all did - that it was because of how abruptly you left." 

Garrus winces at the reminder, though he can't really bring himself to regret it. 

Oblivious to his apparent distress, Tali keeps going.  "But it just got worse the longer you were gone.  We didn't help things, Joker especially made a lot of _comments_ and dropping _hints_.  But we had to quit that after a while.  She was always so tense, so wound up.  Liara says she was just upset that you left and wouldn't talk to her.  Like it was her pride that was suffering.  I..."  Her voice drops a bit, goes a bit soft.  "I think she was worried about you.  She wouldn't let herself ask us about it, but when we'd talk about you, shared the conversations we'd been having, you could tell she was eavesdropping.  I think she was beating herself up about it."

The angry, bristly part of Garrus' inner self is a bit smug about it.  _Good, she should've been._

But there's the damn soft spot he's always had for Shepard, the one that won't quite let him walk away.  That part of him feels so damn guilty he just wants to punch himself. 

Damn, he hates being conflicted.

"And then I guess she thought you were hurt.  In the middle of talking to Cortez and Vega, she doubled over.  Almost fainted or something, I don't know.  But then she was back on her feet and demanding we head to the Citadel.  We all thought she'd gone crazy or something, but she kept scouring the turian comm frequencies.  When we heard about the attack in the system you were in...  We were all worried then."

"I didn't mean to-"

Tali waves dismissively.  "You did what you had to, and I don't think anyone here can blame you.  Leaving.  Fighting.  All of it.  Anyone with eyes can see Shepard's a mess.  Honestly, it's good you're back.  You can hopefully fix that."  Even through the mask, he can see how big and earnest her eyes go.  "You... you do plan on trying to fix things, right?"

He sighs and feels his limbs slump in defeat.  He'd love to fix things.  He's just at a loss as to how to go about that.  "I'm going to try," he concedes, because really that's all he can.

\- - - -

They head up to the mess hall soon after, Garrus' rumbling stomach not going ignored by Tali.  She's gotten in her head that he must have been seriously injured if Shepard reacted the way she did ("I'm _fine_.  Why does no one believe me?"), so she takes to mother henning him.  When he grabs a regular sized dextro-ration, she tsks and adds another helping.  When he goes for a drink, she puts it back and replaces it with a 'healthier' option. 

He scowls at her the whole time but let her get her way.  So what if he's trying to make up for worrying her?  It's an easy fix to an easy problem, and he'll take what he can get in the way of easy fixes right now. 

It's the main dinner time for the crew, most of the seats being filled already.  They grab the last empty table just as some Alliance crewmen vacate it.  There's friendly remarks that they're glad he's back, and he just does his best to try and remember their names. 

"I didn't realize I was so popular," he jokes when they're finally left alone to eat.

"Don't preen.  You're the only turian on board and you're sleeping with Shepard.  Everyone knows who you are and is at least mildly interested."

Garrus forces a look of indignation but abandons the pretense in favor of stuffing his face.  Perhaps he's not as recovered as he let on, because his muscles ache a bit and he's hungry and just so damn _tired_.  He makes a mental note to stop by the medbay and get checked out by a doctor he actually trusts. 

A few minutes later Joker and Vega join them.  Vega's not eating but he's on break so he takes the opportunity to slap Garrus on the back and welcome him back to the ship.  (And okay, ow, that hurt.  He is definitely _not_ back at 100% yet.)  Both humans are pleased to have him back on board, though Vega is more outwardly enthusiastic about having his drinking buddy back.  ("Scars, I could drink these guys under the table in an hour.  I need more of a challenge, you know?")

Joker's in the middle of a dry re-telling of when Javik first came on board when they're interrupted by an unsure voice.

"Can I join you?"

The conversation and easy camaraderie comes to a screeching halt when they look up to see Shepard.  She doesn't mean to be imposing, no doubt, but being the only one standing makes them all fidget a bit.  Her skittishness does nothing to diminish the effect.  If anything, it amplifies it. 

"Well, you _are_ the commander," Joker answers blithely and motions towards a nearby chair. 

No one moves yet, all holding their breaths so Garrus just rolls his eyes, leans back and adds, "The more the merrier."

Their collective restlessness dissipates instantly.  Shepard gives him a thankful smile, one that reminds him so painfully of the SR-1 that he has to look away.  He hasn't quite recovered by the time she's pulled up a seat and the casual atmosphere starts to flood back in.  Vega must sense as much, because he provides a distraction by jokingly asking what Buggy is up to downstairs and if the airlock is still under lock and key.

(Tali pats Garrus on the shoulder when he looks confused, a silent promise to explain later.)

Joker is not as compassionate as the others, taking every opportunity to chirp both of them. 

"Hey, Garrus, what did you think about that mission - oh wait, no, never mind.  You weren't _here._ "

"So do turian crews have commanders that are as fine looking as our Shep here?  You're the only one with the position to judge both."

"You were the idiot that _left_ in the middle of a _war_."

"Don't laugh.  _You_ were the idiot that chased away our best sniper and calibrator extraordinaire."

"You may as well have spent the nights sleeping in the CIC for how little time you spent in your quarters.  What, things too lonely up there?"

"I'm actually surprised to see you two in the same place - last month or so it seemed like only one brooding authority figure was allowed at a time."

(Vega smirks at each comment, at one point nearly choking on his drink as he splutters and coughs before barking out a laugh.  "Damn, Lola, you gonna take that shit?")

But in its own way, it helps diffuse the remaining tension.  Sure, there's no way he and Shepard can even look at each other without him feeling his chest constrict in a mix of pain and anticipation.  So he's exceedingly thankful that their first meeting on the _Normandy_ is at least in public and mediated by mutual friends.  (Though it does seem as though they've taken up camps.  Tali and Vega, at least, seem firmly in his, but he can't help but wonder how divided the ship is.  And Spirits, the idea that the whole ship has an opinion on his love life is somewhat mortifying.) 

In a roundabout way, he's able to read the situation between him and Shepard a bit better.  Their friends act as buffers, let them almost talk but have to dwell on the heavier issues that have separated them for so long.  And damn it all, it's _nice_ to be here again.  He can almost pretend that things are back to normal.

But then he'll look up and see the anxious worry lines around her eyes, something not his own pain reflected there. 

It has to end at some point, so when Vega mutters that his break is long over and Tali agrees that she needs to coordinate with the engineers below deck, everyone starts to get up.  Joker's the last, hesitating to leave them alone because despite the playful way he'd ribbed them both, he doesn't want it all to dissolve back into fighting. 

Eventually, Garrus shoos him with an exasperated look that somehow translates across species. 

"Well," Joker says with the type of subtlety he normally possesses.  "I know when I'm a third wheel.  Play nice, you two."

Shepard's smile is a little pinched and she drums her fingers along the edge of the table.  This is a far cry from the moody, argumentative treatment he'd been dealing with before he left.  And he honestly isn't completely sure it's better. 

"So..." he starts and lets all the possibilities hang between them.

"So," she agrees, but some of the light comes back to her eyes.

"We should probably... talk.  About things."

"Yeah.  I'm working through the night shift.  But tomorrow?  Early?"  She frowns, all at once considering the one thing they haven't addressed yet.  "You're staying, right?  I mean, your stuff was dropped off earlier but I don't want to... you know... assume anything."

She's nervous, honest to god nervous, and in other circumstances he'd find it adorable.  She wears confidence well, but somehow this suits her too.  Maybe only because of the _reason_ she's nervous.

"Yes."

"Yeah?"  And damn, _that smile_ is back.  He loves that smile as much as he loves-

Stop, that, Vakarian.  Don't get ahead of yourself.

"Yes.  I'm staying.  And yes, we can talk in the morning.  Your quarters...?"

"Just check with EDI first to make sure I'm actually there.  My schedule's a fucking mess and who the hell knows when another ground mission's gonna pop up.  But yeah."

He pulls himself away then, forces himself to leave her side because there's nothing more he's willing to say in the middle of the mess hall with about ten assorted members of the crew stealing glances at them (like they can't fucking _see_ them doing it, do they think he's _blind_?).  They say good-bye and he nearly walks into a table.  Ugh.

Is it weird that he feels like a teenager again?

\- - - -

He spends maybe an hour in the battery trying to get his bearings back.  The systems aren't as he left them, but this time he'd planned ahead.  There are back-ups of his algorithms saved on the system (and his own omni-tool if the Alliance had done something stupid like erase his secure files) and he's reasonably confidant it won't take long to set things back the way he likes it.

It's while he's waiting for a file to compile that the idea occurs to him.  Has him rushing to the elevator.  He doesn't hesitate before barging into the port cargo bay.

"The turian is back."

The number of eyes looking at him is a little disorienting, but he ignores it.  "Uh, Garrus Vakarian."

"I don't care." 

And okay, yeah, he's snide.  Whatever, there are things he needs to know and as the only living breathing Prothean in the whole friggin galaxy, he'll deal with it.

"You know about soulmates."

Javik looks at him like he is a complete idiot (Garrus is inclined to agree at the moment).  "Of course I do."

"Okay."  He's starting to understand Liara's frustration.  "Care to... elaborate on that?"

He huffs in annoyance, as if he is well and truly being put upon not only to have Garrus in his presence but to have to converse with him on such matters.  But he must be used to it, dealing with these primitive species that have somehow caught up to his people, because he crosses his arms and actually answers. 

"The Relays were from the Reapers.  We took them and made them ours, as much as we could.  Even as the genocide brought us to the brink of extinction, we did all in our power to assure our survival.  The marks are one of those ways.  Something you people seem to find a novelty was essential to us.

"There were so few of us left.  As our numbers dwindled, it was necessary to find a way to pair off and mate more efficiently.  And there was no time for relationships, to build up the partnerships and trust that was fundamental to surviving.  The Relays allowed us to connect to one another, across time and space."  At the mention of time, Javik reaches unconsciously for his left forearm.  It might be covered, but Garrus can easily guess what's hidden there.  "It's designed to match everyone it can to their one true mate, their ideal partner.  Someone to fight alongside with."

 _Someone to fight **for**_ , Garrus wants to add, but the thought is interrupted.

"Which is why it is laughable that you are the commander's mate."

"Uh... excuse me?"  Because that's like, really insulting, right?  He's about to say as much, but Javik beats him to it.

"You are causing undue stress on your mate."

Garrus stares at him blankly.  Blinks a few times for added effect.  "What?"

"Your disappearance caused the commander to be thoroughly agitated.  Or at least that's what I've been told.  She may always be like that."  There's an indifference about the way he acknowledges that Shepard's default setting might be 'constant aggravation' that's almost admirable.  He's a man used to working with what he's got, clearly. 

"That's really none of your business-"

"She leads the resistance, does she not?  It is _everybody's_ business.  You are her mate, you are to make her stronger.  And you are needed to warn us if she is compromised.  And yet you view her potential indoctrination so callously.  You left-"

"Wait, back that up a bit."  He's not going to listen to this _stranger_ question his relationship with Shepard, but there's something extremely important in what he's saying.  "What's that about Shepard being compromised and indoctrination?"

And again he feels like he's under a microscope.  Not the way it was with Mordin - the salarian wanted to take him apart and see what made him tick.  No, this scrutiny is more along the lines of, 'How has your species evolved so far and yet still manages to produce such stunning examples of stupidity?'

"You will know before any other if she becomes indoctrinated.  In this matter, _you_ are more important than her.  _You_ will warn your crew, your fleets, your worlds, should she start to succumb to Reaper influence."

"Oh."  Well, when he's right he's right.  A thought occurs to him and his stomach churns uncomfortably in response.  "Javik... You didn't-  Did you _tell_ Shepard all of this?"

"I have told her considerably more."

"You're killing me."

Javik looks stunned at that, almost afraid that Garrus means it literally.  And given the rumors that spread about him being in the hospital, the idea isn't _completely_ unfounded. 

"Never mind," he mutters.  He doesn't want to be rude and leave out of the blue, but Javik is becoming increasingly bored with him.  Garrus grumbles something about leaving and goes back to the battery to brood a bit. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> P.S. I lowkey ship Liara/Javik. I don't really plan on pursuing that relationship, but it might continue as a background thing.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter I kinda put off writing for a bit because of how hard I knew it'd be to get Garrus and Shepard to actually *talk* and *listen* to each other. I feel like a couples counselor or something. It was hard figuring out what needed to be said and how to make it a reasonable sounding conversation that doesn't just deteriorate into fighting. I had to actually write a list of the things both Garrus and Shepard *must* put on the table for their own piece of mind, and then tried to arrange them in a natural sounding order. We'll see if that worked out???
> 
> Also, I don't remember if Shepard has a coffee table or anything in her quarters by the bed, but dammit this one does! 
> 
> And as always, huge thanks to [mordinette](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Mordinette/pseuds/Mordinette) for beta reading and helping me talk through some concerns about how Shep would react to the whole Protheans made the marks thing. And for helping me make sure Shepard doesn't seem like a total dick in this chapter.

It grates on him a bit, but he obediently follows Shepard's directives about meeting.  He waits for morning - barely gets any sleep, but somehow manages a few hours - and checks with EDI.  The only way he skirts around her request is by showing up _before_ her.  Part of him is worried she'll lock him out if he lets her get there first.  It's possibly an ungrounded fear, but it makes him feel better to find her quarters empty.

He’s equally dreading and anticipating this talk.  The last few times have been painful.  For both of them.  But the air needs to be cleared, things need to finally be given a chance to fall back into place.  Or out of place.  Both possibilities are frightening in their own way, but he eagerly awaits the relief of _knowing_ where they stand with each other. 

Garrus lounges on the couch, his usual spot devoid of clutter (unlike the rest, reports piled high amid discarded clothing).  He forces his mind blank because otherwise he'll get himself keyed up and ready to lash out.  And maybe it's foolish to hope, but he does, hopes desperately that this won't dissolve into an argument before it's begun.

Try as he might, he only half succeeds.  He doesn't fall into a pit of anger or self-loathing.  No, he sidesteps that altogether and settles on replaying Javik's words over and over ad nauseam.  Things like “mates” and “indoctrination” and “partnership” war for attention.  Neutrally, he looks at them each in turn. 

Honestly, it feels like he's mounting a defense against the attacks Shepard might make.  How she'll tear down each possible connection between them, hate them all because she was _forced_ into it.

Like he would've chosen _this_.

He's so lost in his own head that he doesn't notice the door open.

"Glad to see you let yourself in."

Garrus just about jumps out of his plates but she doesn't seem to notice.  Or at least she has the good graces to not comment on it. 

"I brought booze."  She holds up two bottles, one he distinctly remembers as the expensive dextro stuff Tali splurged on a few months ago when she joined the crew.  She's sworn off alcohol since then, but Garrus hasn't had the heart to drink it without her.  Shepard crosses the cabin, grabbing two glasses from her desk on the way down the stairs, and sits on the edge of the couch.  It's a familiar setting, how they'd often go over missions or just talk the night away.  The reminder is a little unsettling.

He snaps out of his daze when she starts pouring out a drink for each of them.  There's no way to read this without getting agitated.  Either she's not taking this seriously, which would be problematic enough, or she's actively trying to have it crash and burn.  Shepard slides his glass over to him and he takes it mechanically.  He's glad she can't read turians well enough to understand the annoyance and distress his twitching mandibles exude, that'd be disastrous-

"Oh c'mon," she rolls her eyes but sounds apologetic.  "I'm not _that_ much of an asshole, recent evidence notwithstanding.  This isn't about _us_ , I just had a shit day.  Had a call from Anderson, he looks god awful and it really fucks with a person to see their mentor like that.  I need something stronger than tea right now and figured you'd be up for joining me."  There's a hopeful way she ends the sentence, making it more question and offer than statement of fact.

Okay, so maybe she _can_ read turians pretty well.  When the hell did that happen?

(A little part of him whispers that she learned it from him.  That years of time together made her as adept at reading turians, at reading _him,_ as he is at reading humans.  But it seems presumptuous, like he's giving himself too much credit or her not enough.)

"Yeah, that's- that's fine."  He reaches for the drink and takes a sip.  It's actually not half bad, so he immediately goes back for another swig and feels the carbonation bubble pleasantly along his tongue.  "Sorry I, uh... _assumed_."

She shrugs.  "Don't worry about it."

They drink quietly for a moment, letting the alcohol do its work to loosen the knots twisting in their guts.  The tension in the air doesn't entirely dissipate, but it becomes more muted. 

"That hits the spot," Shepard says after she finishes off her first glass and puts it down on the edge of the table.  She stretches out and he hears a few joints pop.  The brief stretch can’t possibly do much to loosen her muscles.  He's no stranger to how tight they get, how Shepard carries the burden of command as if a physical weight. 

(Unbidden come images of how he _used_ to help her relieve stress.  He avoids looking her in the eyes, afraid she'll be able to see how his thoughts wandered.)

He needs a distraction, needs to get this over with.  "So..." 

"So," she agrees.  The word sits between them as Shepard pours herself another glass.  "I, uh."  She coughs and tries again.  "I've been thinking about how to do this in as fair a way as possible...  I mean, uh, we each have our side.  Things we wanna get off our chests.  I figure we could maybe take turns saying things.  Or asking questions or... whatever."

His subvocals trill in the turian equivalent of a snort.  (He wonders briefly if the frequency is within the human range of hearing, if she really _can_ read him in all the subtle ways he's taken for granted all this time.)  "Since when have you become so diplomatic?"

"Fuck you, Vakarian."  There's no bite behind her tone or the mock scowl she throws his way.  "I'm more than just a pretty face that knows how to shoot."

"I know."  _Believe me, I know._

She blushes at that, one of the few times he's ever managed to goad her into the very human show of embarrassment.  It's a shallow victory, really, after everything, but he'll take it.  Momentarily pleased with himself, he moves on. 

"You go first."

"Me?"  She nearly chokes on her drink.  "Why me?"

"It was your idea.  Show me how you want to do this."  It's not exactly a lie, but it's only a half-truth.  She's obviously been thinking about this, knows what she wants to talk about.  Garrus, on the other hand, doesn't have a fucking clue.  Yeah, there are things he wants her to know, but how to actually _articulate_ those things still eludes him.

She takes a deep breath, like she's about to take a plunge into frigid water, forces it out so harshly that it makes a noise as it escapes, and then dives right in.  "Let's start easy.  What did you think about the whole soulmate business?  You know... before we met."

"Oh."  He wasn't expecting that.  Garrus thinks back to his youth, tries to remember what the hell he _did_ think about them.  "They were just... there.  A fact of life.  As much a part of you as your tribal markings."

That doesn't seem to be what Shepard wanted to hear.  A frown forms, deep creases running along her forehead, and her eyes turn hard.  "So you were just going to accept it, whoever it was?"

"I- I don't know?  Maybe?"  He puts his arms out in a placating gesture.  "I don't know what you want me to say, Shepard.  The truth is I never much thought about it either way.  It was always something for _later_.  I didn't really ever spend time imagining who it would be, never looked for my matching mark on people.  I guess I just figured if it's fate like everyone says, it would happen when it was supposed to."

If she's at all mollified by any of what he's said, she doesn't show it.  Instead she crosses her arms and glares at something in vicinity of his feet.  "Your turn."

He hasn't planned a damn thing and he just wants to move on so Shepard will stop stewing in her bad mood, so he blurts out the first question that comes to mind.  "Were you ever planning on giving your soulmate a chance?"

Shepard winces but hides it behind another sip of wine.  "I guess I never really thought I'd meet him," she admits.  "Like you said, that was a problem for later."  She runs a finger along the rim of her glass, watches the light reflect off of it with undue intensity.  "Maybe I assumed he'd be human.  That I'd see his mark and be able to avoid him and the whole mess to begin with."

"So that's a no, then."

"Yeah," she sighs in defeat.  "I guess that's a no."

"Why'd you even flirt with me in the first place?  Because I'm turian and therefore safe?"

"It's my turn," she snaps.

" _Fine._ "

"Doesn't it ever bother you?  The marks, the idea of soulmates?  It's just romantic nonsense.  Or worse yet, weird Prothean breeding protocol or something.  Which yeah, turian and human, I get that's not really...  That's beside the point, though.  Doesn't it feel like taking away your _choice_?  That you're stuck with someone and just have to take some fucking Mass Relay's word for it?"

"No." 

Shepard is genuinely flustered by his flat denial.  Looks like she's about to call him on his bullshit, but the problem is that it's not bullshit.

"I can see why it would.  That if you put two people in a room and say they're going to end up together, like it or not, that can get under your skin.  Like some weird type of brainwashing or something.  But that's only if you look at it like the marks _cause_ the bond, instead of just picking up on one that'll form anyway.  Like they're removed from our concept of time, they _know_ who our match will be, the person we'd choose if the marks didn't exist at all."

Silence. 

Slowly, Shepard shakes her head.  "I don't know if I can look at it that way.  It's always _felt_ like someone telling me who I'm supposed to be.  My whole life, I've felt it so _viscerally_ that-  That it's hard to reprogram how I see it."  She offers a half smile that looks so forced it _hurts_ him to see it.  “You know I don’t like being told what to do.”

So basically, it's a deal breaker them being soulmates.  The one thing that might've given him the edge, the one trump card, with damn near anyone else is the one thing that'll always stand in his way.

He takes three calming breaths and reminds himself not to get angry.

Not yet anyway.

"My turn.  Why'd you even flirt with me in the first place?"  If she's not careful, that scowl will be permanently embedded in the lines of her face.  He doesn't back down, though, pointedly waits for her to answer. 

"Ugh.  It was a fucking no brainer, alright?  You're... you're you, Garrus.  You're sweet and smart and god _damn_ watching you snipe does things to me and you actually _listen_ to me.  _Me_ , Jane, not Commander Shepard the war hero.  And while we're on the topic, hot _damn_ your voice, I could listen to that all day.  Is that what you want to hear, Vakarian?  That I actually _liked_ you-"

"You don't like me anymore?"  It's like a punch to the gut but he waits for an answer.

"I didn't fucking say that-"

"It was kind of implied."

She avoids answering, skirts around the accusation as she continues.  "I do one night stands and short flings.  That's me, that's Jane Shepard.  I've never been in a relationship for more than a friggin month.  I have fun and then get the fuck out because even if I don't give a shit about the soulmate stuff, _they_ do.  Or they will.  And I know how turians are, you guys fuck around for fun.  I-"  For a moment she's at a loss for words.  "We're a good team.  We meshed so fucking well in the field, I figured it would probably translate to the bedroom.  After we got around the whole different species thing, anyway.  And I _liked_ you.  So I went for it."

He speaks quietly so he won't spook her, because he feels they're dangerously close to that.  "We've been..."  Been what?  Dating?  In a relationship?  "We've been together for more than a month, Shepard."

The question is there, hidden beneath.  _Why'd you break your rule for me?_

There's anguish in her expression.  "I know.  I... I didn't plan for it to be like this.  I thought we were going to die.  And then we didn't, but I was going to be arrested.  But then I spent that whole six months _missing_ you.  And yeah, I missed Liara and Tali and all of them, but it wasn't like I missed _you_.  So maybe I let it go on longer than I should have, and that's my fault-"

"Do not _apologize_ like being together was a mistake."

"I-"  She stops herself and closes her eyes.  Swallows and nods.  Re-centers herself and looks at him as she says, "I'm not saying it was.  It was great.  Too good to be true, really.  Except for the _war_ going on.  I just... I'm not equipped to handle a soulmate, Garrus.  That was never something I planned on putting myself through..."  She digs the palms of her hands into her eyes.  "Whose turn is it?"

"Yours, I think."

"Okay."  Her hands fall to her sides and her eyes dart around the room.  "When you left, I sent that message-"

"I didn't listen to it," he interrupts.  "I uh- I deleted it."

She runs her hands through her hair before laughing slightly.  "Thank god for small miracles."

He waits patiently but she doesn't clarify.  "I feel like it's cheating if you make me use my turn to ask you to elaborate."

There's a huff of annoyance but she agrees.  "Yeah, yeah I guess you've got a point."  It takes her a couple beats to organize her thoughts, but when she starts it's in a rush, words running together as she says them as quickly as she can get them out.  "Look... I was upset.  I've been upset about the whole you and me situation for a while, long before you even told me.  And that's on me. Trust me, I get that.  I've been told often enough by Liara that it's kinda sunken in by now. 

"You left and...  that made it a hundred times worse.  You chose to leave, not without reason, and no two ways about it, that reason was me.  So... I kinda took out my frustration on that recording.  I felt like shit once I calmed down enough to be even _remotely_ objective about it.  I dreaded hearing back from you, because there's no way you wouldn't be pissed.  And fuck, if you hadn't been I probably would've lost a little respect for you because I was _awful_. 

"But... you didn't reply and I waited and waited and nothing.  And I felt like that _was_ my answer.  Fuck off, it's over.  No need to bring words or shouting into it.  It was just you washing your hands clean of me.  So, yeah.  It's kind of a relief to have you back on the _Normandy_ and talking to me and thank fuck you never listened to that damn message."

She coughs as he sits in stunned silence.  "Your turn," she prompts

Her words snap him out of it, make him blink and look away.  The back of his mind whispers about her insecurities, that it all comes down to a childhood fear that her parents would leave each other.  He knows the answer, at least he thinks he does, but he can't calm those fears until she admits to them. 

"You liked me before you knew.  Why does knowing change that?"

"I don't even fucking know anymore."  There's only a trace of bitterness behind it.  “It’s not…  It doesn’t change how I feel about you, okay?  I… I could probably never get over you, if we’re being honest here and that’s kinda the point.  But it doesn’t change how fucking _terrified_ I feel when I think about you – or _anyone_ – being my soulmate.  The kind of terrified that almost has me hyperventilating into a paper bag or something.”

"I..."  His mouth goes dry and he doesn't even know what he was going to say anyway.  "I _don't_ want things to be over," he says carefully.  "But I really don't know where to go from here."

"There's..."  It's not like Shepard to be so hesitant, and he knows this is the crux of the matter.  He tries not to hold his breath as he waits.  "My parents stayed together even though it was hard on them.  But they had a bond built up over years of marriage and what they had worked for them...  They got to make that choice.  But...  But what if I made a choice, and the other person made another one?  What if I chose to be with them, but they were someone else's soulmate?  Or what if I met them, but they already had someone?  What if they didn't choose me back?

"And I shielded myself in that for a long time.  I never considered...  Well, I guess I didn't have faith that anyone _would_ pick me.  And I may have panicked when I found out it was you.  Because that's where it always has to end, right?  When someone finds their soulmate...  And I guess it didn't really ever click that it was me?  I honestly don't know.  I just...  I was always afraid of losing you to your soulmate.  You’re turian and your soulmate was going to be turian, there’s no way it’d be me. 

“And I guess I wasn't exactly wrong, was I?  The only thing that’s tearing us apart _is_ your soulmate, and ain’t it fucked up that it’s me doing it to myself?  You left and it was _my fault_ and I...  It was over, in my mind.  And it _sucked_ , but I'd always expected that.  Honestly, it made perfect sense.  You _choosing_ to leave me.  It was easy to accept and I was just so _angry_ because I'd been fucking _right_ all along."

"I wasn't-"  He wants to bite his tongue or something, _anything_ to distract from how much it hurts him to hear how his leaving devastated her.  “You said you wanted space.  _I_ needed space.  I wasn’t _leaving_ you, Shepard.  I would never-“

"I know, I know."  She doesn’t look at him, hasn't this whole time.  He can see the tears forming in the corner of her eyes, held back he assumes only by Shepard's stubbornness.  "Not on purpose, not forever, not if you could help it.  But you almost _died_ , you fucking asshole.  Don't try to convince me otherwise.  I know what I felt and I know what the med evac said and I know what the doctors said.  You were fucking lucky to get off that rock.  You- you left and you really weren't going to come back this time-  And it was like… like _I’d_ killed you, because _I_ made you leave and-"

He's on his feet and closing the distance between them before he can stop himself.  Shepard hasn't broken down, stubbornly clings to control because she's damn good at it, but he can help.  His arms are around her as he pulls in her in close, closer than they've been in what seems like forever.  She burrows into the space by his cowl and breathes him in.  Hair tickles his mandibles and it's heart achingly familiar.

"I'm not going anywhere unless you make me.  I'm too stubborn to die, you know that."

The ghost of the words _I love you_ hangs in the air.

It's a long time before Shepard says anything.  "I'm tired."  He moves to let her go but her grip around him tightens.  "Stay with me?"

"Of course.”


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm off work this week, thus the sooner than usual update. If I haven't already made this clear in earlier notes (and I think I did, but it never hurts to re-iterate), I haven't played ME3 in years. I am probably going out of order in terms of when events happen in the game. Sometimes I go out of order on purpose (because it works better for the needs of this story - like bringing Tali on board way earlier than I should have, but I like having her around), sometimes it's an accident (like I said, it's been years). Hell, I might even leave out some things (highly unlikely I'll do the Citadel dlc at all). So bear with me while I move things around for my convenience :)
> 
> Thank you to [mordinette](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Mordinette/pseuds/Mordinette) for beta-reading and helping me figure out what he hell I’m doing lol

She falls asleep in his arms.  Garrus waits until he's sure she's sleeping soundly before he cradles her against his chest and moves her to the bed.  He tucks them in as best he can, but it's difficult since Shepard won't quite let him go. It doesn't matter - he's fine as is and his body heat is enough for both of them. 

He drifts in and out for an hour or so, but he's too keyed up to actually get any rest.  There's nothing for him to do on the ship, though.  He's back, but not _officially_.  No shifts or crew reports or mission briefings await his attention.  So he stays, offers Shepard the comfort of his proximity.  And maybe he enjoys the comfort of hers, too.

Restlessness and a need to move have him on his feet, gently and properly tucking Shepard in before slipping out of the bed.  He has no intention of leaving, though.  There's been so much keeping them apart lately that, with her invitation to stay, he finds he can't pull himself away yet.  So he asks EDI to send him mission reports to read through to get up to speed. 

The crew's been busy while he's been gone (no surprise there), and there's a slight pang in his chest that makes him feel like he abandoned them.  And maybe he did, technically, but there's no denying that the training of new anti-Reaper ground troops is important in its own right.  If only he could be two places at once, he thinks wryly. 

_Then just my luck, the Reapers would be able to do it too and we'd be twice as fucked._

He's in the middle of reading up on a ground mission involving a startling number of banshees (though honestly, it's a brilliant tactical move on the part of the Reapers to target a shrine for Ardat-Yakshi) when he hears Shepard stir.  He looks up, watches her stretch beneath the sheets and snuggle further into the space he'd vacated.  She sighs slightly and settles in again, breathing deep and even. 

Shepard continues sleeping well into the day cycle.  It's maybe a little selfish, but he doesn't wake her.  This could very well be the quiet before the storm, and he's perfectly willing to sit here and enjoy it while he can.  And no doubt, if he knows Shepard as well as he thinks, this is the most sleep she's gotten in one go in a while.  He watches until he's sure she's still comfortably asleep, then goes back to reading.

It takes less time than he anticipated to catch up, but there's nothing left but flight logs and even with Joker's ridiculous, passive aggressive commentary it's not worth the time.  Fidgety with unspent energy, Garrus decides to tidy up the room.  Shepard's not usually a slob, but the stress from their personal situation and the obvious pressure of leading the resistance against the Reapers obviously have taken their toll.  There's a system to her madness (even now), and it doesn't take long to organize it. 

"Mmm, a girl could get used to this." 

Garrus nearly drops a datapad.  He stares at Shepard, curled up in a nest of pillows and watching him.  "Wh- what?"

"You cleaning up after me.  Being here when I wake up.  Having you around in general.  Take your pick."

He bites back his impulse to point out that she _was_ used to it until she ended things.  Garrus might have a tendency to stick his foot in his mouth, but even he knows that would just be a pointless thing to say right now.  "I didn't mean to wake you-"

"You didn't," she says around a jaw-cracking yawn.  Without further preamble, she pushes off the covers and rolls onto the floor and into a set of push-ups.  Garrus leans against the fish tank and admires the view.  Turians are hard lines and un-giving plates.  Humans, the females especially, are curves and soft skin fluttering over barely hidden muscle just beneath the surface.  There's something about the interplay of weakness and strength that he can't help but being drawn to.

Shepard jumps to her feet and stretches.  She catches his eye and shrugs at the unspoken question there.  "I haven't gotten to sleep more than five solid hours in weeks, body's not used to all the inactivity."  There's something defensive in the way she says it and her nonchalant way of talking about it doesn't quite cover up the underlying embarrassment.

"I remember."  She's spent years trying to convince her body that it doesn't need any sleep.  Garrus admits that she's been somewhat successful - he didn't even realize humans were supposed to get eight hours a night until someone told him.  Still, Shepard views the extended periods of idleness with scorn.  Too much to do, too little time.

With the Reapers around every corner, that's not exactly wrong.

A few more stretches, Garrus keenly watching the whole time simply because he _can_ (and he suspects she's _trying_ to taunt him with her flexibility at this point), and then she's done.  She licks her lips, opens her mouth to say something, but her omnitool pings.  Scowling, she looks at it.  It only alerts her when there's a high priority message coming through.

"Ugh, it's Hackett.  I've got a meeting on the Citadel.  Fuck, we were supposed to ship out and now I gotta deal with this."

"Hackett scheduled a meeting for you?  Isn't that a little _below_ your pay grade at this point?"

Shepard laughs into a sigh, rubbing the last vestiges of sleep from her eyes.  "Yeah I fucking wish.  I don't think there's ever escaping that kind of shit."

"Want company?"

She visibly starts at the offer.  "Uh, probably don't need it.  It's just some scientist, should be in and out.  Don't wanna waste your time."  The implication is of course that it may very well be wasting _hers_.  "See you for dinner later, though?"

"It's a date."

The laugh she rewards him with briefly reminds him why he fell for her in the first place.  "Is that what it is?  A date?"  It's meant to be teasing, of that he's sure, but there's traces of unease there.

In this, it's probably best to just defer to her.  Let her set the pace as they re-adjust.  So he shrugs.  "If you want it to be."

Taking a moment to consider, she finally speaks up.  "Yeah, that might be nice.  Hope you packed your fanciest civvies, because I'm taking you to the nicest place on the _Normandy_."

"You mean the clean table in the mess hall?"

"That'll be the one."

"I hear you have to make reservations months in advance for that one.  Otherwise they seat you with the riffraff at the dirty tables."

"What can I say?  I know a guy who knows a guy.  I can make it happen."  She winks at him and he finally gives in and chuckles.

For a few seconds, he'd forgotten all about... their mess.  But now it's back, spilling back into the spaces left behind by their silence.  He manages to suppress a sigh as he starts heading out to let her get ready.  "I'll see you later, Shepard."

"Garrus?"

He pauses at the door, turns back to see what she wants.  "Yes?"

"This isn't fixed."  She chews her lip anxiously, as if those words might shatter the fragile peace they've made.

"I know," he says and hopes she hears the promise, _We'll work on it._

\- - - -

It's not until the elevator doors open that he remembers... he has nothing to do.  He quickly types Shepard a message, asking her to put him on the duty roster ASAP otherwise he'll go crazy, and then heads to the medbay.  There's no getting around needing to see Chakwas and get a clean bill of health before he'll be considered for ground missions.  And though he loathes the idea (mostly because he's afraid of the pain that lingers in his abdomen), he bites the bullet and decides to be proactive.

"Garrus."  If the doctor's surprised to see him back on board, she does nothing to indicate it.  "What can I do for you?  Or is this just a social visit?"

"Afraid not.  I was wondering if you could do a quick exam, make sure I'm fit for duty."

"Because?"  There's a hint of suspicion in her voice.  Shepard's the worst of the crew by far when it comes to skirting medical advice, but Garrus isn't exactly known to _voluntarily_ get checked up either.  Something Chakwas knows all too well after Omega.  How many times did he "forget" appointments with her and ignore his PT?

"I may have gotten impaled.  Possibly shot, definitely bruised.  I assume there was some blood loss in there, too."

"There it is."  There's a fond smile as she waves him over to an exam table.  "Let me pull up the hospital report and we'll go from there."

She touches the tender plates around the injury, does a few scans, and wordlessly observes the results.

"Well, if you were looking for me to clear you for field duty, you're out of luck."

"It can't be _that_ bad," he groans.  He's well aware from personal experience that there'll be no persuading the doctor into changing her mind, but a little pouting never hurt.

"The wound is sealed and healing nicely.  I'd hate for you to strain yourself and set back your progress.  Especially when there are a dozen able-bodied members of the crew who can go instead."

"So... it's preventative...?"

She scowls at him - it very much reminds him of Shepard and he tries not to be intimidated by it - and answers slowly, as if talking to a child, "They admittedly did a good job patching you up, but it's still fairly obvious that you _needed_ patching up.  You exert yourself too much too soon, you'll likely just make it significantly worse.  Which would be extremely foolish given you're only maybe two weeks from being fully recovered."

They stare at each other for a while.  Chakwas blinks first.  She sighs dramatically and crosses her arms over her chest.  "You're just picking out the words you want to hear aren't you?"

He doesn't bother denying it.  "It just _sounds_ like you're _recommending_ I don't do field missions-"

"Garrus, you're a big boy, I'm sure you are more than capable of making informed decisions.  For Christ's sake, after Omega Shepard dragged you out on some mission _days_ after you woke up despite my protests.  Clearly you'll ignore me until you're bleeding out in your armor.  And I know I may as well be talking to a wall for all the good I'm doing, but I'd be remiss if I didn't try to talk you out of doing something foolish."

"I appreciate that, and if we weren't in the middle of a war, I'd follow your advice to the letter." She raises an eyebrow at that.  "Well, probably."

"Lucky for you there's that war giving you the perfect excuse to ignore it," she says dryly.  "If that's all, you may leave the infirmary for those inclined to yield to my medical expertise.  And I sincerely do _not_ want to see you back in here any time soon."

Counting it as a win, Garrus thanks Chakwas and escapes before she can decide to prescribe him meds or, worse yet, exercises. 

A few crew members wave to him as he makes his way to the Main Battery.  It's strange, attracting so much attention.  He's used to being barricaded behind closed doors with his station and the guns and little to no notoriety (aside from the strange curiosity humans tend to have for the only turian on board).  Somewhere along the line things changed and he never quite caught up to people _knowing_ and _looking up_ to him. 

He's not quite sure what to do with that. 

There's still a decent amount to keep him occupied in the Battery, the usual calibrations and refining that never quite meet the high expectations he has for himself.  He's hardly even gotten started when he's interrupted by the ping of the console alerting him to an incoming message.  It's from Shepard - which isn't all that unexpected, only it's not about dinner and it's directed to all mission going members of the crew.  There's a briefing scheduled to start in... fuck, like five minutes.

Welcome back to work, Vakarian.  Why are you even surprised?

\- - - -

Garrus isn't the first or the last to arrive.  Liara drags Javik in (and isn't _that_ a sight), and then Kaidan slips in after that.  The only ones missing are-

"Thanks for meeting me here."  Shepard slips in, EDI on her heels.  As relaxed as she'd seemed when they parted an hour ago, he'd hoped it would still show.  No such luck.  Her shoulders are tense and her stride gives away the stress she's managed to acquire in the brief time she's been awake.

Mission briefings are normally boring affairs.  Presentations, an excess of talk (very little of it actually ends up being useful on the mission itself), and tactical information that generally is so straight forward it's a wonder the officers feel it needs to be said at all.  At least, that'd been his experience (especially in regards to C-Sec, ugh) prior to Shepard.  Shepard's been on their end of things too much, respects their time and their intelligence.  Her briefings tend to be three minutes flat.

"I had a meeting with a Dr. Bryson earlier.  I don't know how to dance around it so I'm just going to say it.  The Alliance has info on some creature called a Leviathan, which is supposed to be some sort of Reaper killer.  We have no idea if these creatures are legit, if they're alive or extinct or what.  But assuming they're real, they're going to be useful."

"We have heard of no such thing," Javik says dismissively.

It's Liara who hisses back, "Yes, and Protheans are the be all and end all of knowledge." 

"My people-"

"Didn't exactly win the war," James grumbles under his breath.

"-were far more advanced than any of yours.  If _we_ could not find such creatures, they do not exist."

Shepard ignores him and continues.  "This is priority number one for us, people.  The Crucible is pretty much done, just needs time.  If we can get this on the side, it can do nothing but help.  We're leaving in a bit to investigate the only lead we have.  I need a ground team.  EDI's already helped out at Dr. Bryson's lab, so I'd like to keep her involved.  Other than that, I'm open to recommendations."

"I'll come."

They all either stare at him or pointedly _don't_ stare at him, instead looking at Shepard's reaction.

She chews her bottom lip and looks him once over.  "And what would Chakwas say to that suggestion?"

"Probably nothing good."

James covers a laugh with a cough and a serious look.  Tali looks back and forth between him and Shepard, as entranced as she is in a bad romance vid.  (Oh Spirits, _are_ they a bad romance vid?)  Javik quirks his head and, for all his feigned disinterest, blinks curiously at them.  The rest of the crew are a bit better at hiding their thoughts.

"That's not exactly a stellar recommendation for why you should go."  Her eyes are hard and he's worried he'll have to press the point.  She hasn't said no outright, not yet, so there's still hope.  "Anyone else volunteering?"

Most of them physically take a step back and all of them seem to find the ceiling intensely interesting. 

"... No one?"  It's hard to tell if she sounds irked or amused.  "You assholes are toeing the line of insubordination, you know that, right?"

"We're merely deferring to your expertise, Commander."  And sure, Tali's helmet obscures her features, but Garrus chooses to believe there's a shit eating grin in place right now.

"I hate you all," Shepard says with an eye roll.  "Vakarian, suit up, you're coming.  Vega, you too."

"Three... three squad mates?" he chokes out, looking around to see if the others had heard it too.

"Yes, Vega.  You got a problem with that?"

"Uh... no, ma'am, not especially."

"Good.  Cuz you're the only one big enough to carry Vakarian's ass if he's overestimating his physical capabilities.  The three of you be ready to leave when we arrive."  She jerks her head to the door.  "I don't know why you're still here, don't you have jobs to do?  Dismissed!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's great that I jokingly mentioned Garrus avoiding PT and then the next day I found out I have to start PT... ahahahahaha ugh :(


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This update took longer for me to get around to than usual so I'm sorry about that :/ I had it in my head that I needed to watch the whole Leviathan dlc to jog my memory of what happens to be able to incorporate it into the story. But then most of the videos were bro!shep and that's just weird, so that was a huge dip in my motivation. Then I compromised by watching just cut scenes that involved femshep/garrus and that definitely helped :) But really, I don't know why I thought I needed to do that - I haven't for anything else so far and I don't do any of the missions in that much detail that it's necessary. So really, I siked myself out of wanting to write this chapter.
> 
> But I'm back! I've sorta kinda maybe got a handle of what I want to do, and I'm going to really try and get this story wrapped up ASAP. It's been fun exploring this concept with these characters, but I need some time and brain space for other projects.
> 
> Also, I don't think this is prominent enough in the story as a whole to warrant a new tag, but I am warning you here and now that there is some mild substance abuse. 
> 
> Thank you to [mordinette](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Mordinette/pseuds/Mordinette) for beta-reading and helping me get my butt in gear and write this :)

They suit up and head to the hangar.  Garrus tinkers with his scope settings and hovers around Vega.  Vega seems just about as antsy but not as good at hiding it, so he does the last thing Garrus would've expected him to do.  He opens up the full report of Shepard's encounter with Dr. Bryson (only done by grace of Shepard delegating the task to EDI) and reads it to Garrus.

Every. Goddamned.  Word.

And the poor marine is nervous enough he doesn't even add too much commentary.

"James?" he asks as he holsters his rifle.  "You okay?"

"Yeah yeah yeah, I'm good."  

Getting James to talk isn't exactly a difficult task.  Just apply the initial pressure, and he'll eventually start babbling.  The effect is compounded when he's drinking or nervous. (The only time he ever really shuts up is when the situation is, as he puts it, "extremely fucking serious, man."  As far as Garrus can tell, this is limited to poker and combat.)  So he accepts Vegas' answer and starts checking his pistol.

In a record ten seconds, James cracks.

"Look, dude, you sure you're okay for this mission?  I mean, I don't know how bad it was when you were in the hospital or whatever, but it makes me nervous going out there with someone who's not full strength."

He of course neglects to mention that _none_ of them have been at full strength since Earth was attacked.

"What?  Afraid you can't carry me?"

James bulks at that. "Dude, I can deadlift twice your weight."

"You don't even know how much I weigh."

"Yeah, but I know I can lift twice that much."

Garrus teases him a bit more, mostly criticism about his training if he feels he's not prepared for _additional_ help on a mission.  He's not so much trying to rile James up as he is trying to get him to shake his nerves, which can sometimes be a hard balance to strike. By the time Shepard arrives and ushers them onto the shuttle, he thinks he's managed it.

Shepard eyes him suspiciously as they take off, motioning to some seats in the back.  She keeps her voice low so that Vega and Cortez can't overhear (there's no point in trying to keep it from EDI, but Shepard trusts her discretion).  "This should go without saying, but if you can't handle this, you need to tell me and stay back."

"You don't even know if we'll see any combat."  

She gives him a look. "Seriously, when have we _ever_ had a mission where we didn't end up shooting at people or getting shot at?"

He opens his mouth to counter her, but nothing really comes to mind.  "I'll be fine."

"You've said that before."  

"And I was."

"You lied," she says simply.  And yeah, in the past he has probably not been forthcoming about every detail of his injuries and ongoing ailments, because they have a job to do and he can grit and bear it.  But Shepard's never called him on it before, so it's strange that she would bother now.

"I got a headache every friggin time you got hurt and then brushed it off," she says simply, needing to answer the confusion sitting silently between them.  The shuttle lands with only a slight lurch, and she gets up.  "I didn't put two and two together, but no escaping it this time Vakarian."   Pointing at him meaningfully, she adds, "You get hurt, I'm going to know it."

He lingers before exiting the shuttle, because _fuck_ is that inconvenient and maybe he's rethinking joining this mission.  Too late, of course, but oh well.

It starts out easy enough. The mining facility they investigate is creepy as all hell, sure, but it's not strenuous.  Which is decidedly good, because he realizes about two minutes in that he probably should've listened to Chakwas.  His joints are stiff from disuse - both the bedrest at the hospital and his general lack of combat over the past month or so.  And though there's no pain to struggle through, there's the _hint_ of pain.  Tingling little fault lines running along his abdomen promising agony if he pushes too hard.

And _of course_ Shepard's right.  Even in the good ol' days of chasing Saren around, missions without bullets flying weren't really a thing.  No way they'd be that lucky during an all-out war with the Reapers. There's running, there's fighting, and even some explosions thrown in. Great.  

Luck is on his side (for once) and he avoids getting hurt or aggravating his current injuries.  He's tired for sure, but the only one who doesn't look at least a little put out after all their running around is EDI. They head out to find Ann Bryson, and Shepard grudgingly lets him continue to be part of the field team.  

Her hand lands on his shoulder before they exit the shuttle.  She squeezes, knowing he can't feel it through his armor, and gives him a soft look before she steels herself behind the visage of Commander Shepard.

That's the last solid memory he has.

His shields go down and he takes a hit to the shoulder.  It burns a little but it's honestly not that big of a deal.  Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Shepard turn towards him, registering the impact.  And he makes a decision.  One that's probably going to look terrible in hindsight but the only one he sees in the heat of the moment.

He ups his medi-gel intake. Whenever he feels the first tendrils of pain, anywhere, from a wound or aches from his injury, he lets the coolness numb it before he can even feel it.  Because if _he_ feels it, _she_ feels it, and then Shepard will send him back. The extra meds make him a little loopy, but it's almost like being buzzed.  He can function while buzzed, can still shoot like nobody's business, so it's easy to justify it.  

In a daze, Garrus has to focus on his breathing and taking careful stock of his body while the rest of them talk to Bryson.  Shepard's distracted and doesn't notice.  She'd warned him she'd use their bond to keep watch on him, and since he's basically cut her off from that cheat without her realizing it, she doesn't pay him much mind. Nothing in her head but the mission.

James notices, right before they leave the _Normandy_ to find the source of the Leviathan signal.  "Just cuz I _can_ carry you doesn't mean I want to, Scars."  He's only half-joking, a hint of warning underneath.

"Duly noted."

And he probably would've been okay.  Granted, he has no idea how bad things are with the medi-gel taking the edge off, but he's feeling pretty good about his odds.  Then things go to hell pretty quickly.  He's thrown against the ground hard when the shuttle's forced down by the pulse.  And the pain is distant, drowned out in a mix of chemicals, but he's aware of it.  

The Reaper forces follow soon after, and he shoots them more from muscle memory than any concentrated effort on his part.  At this point, he's not even sure he's doing a passable job at hiding how fucked up he is. And although Shepard might give him _that look_ , she doesn't comment.  EDI and James seem to notice something is off and, in their own subtle way, take on the brunt of the fighting.  

Right before they get her to the mech, Shepard takes a bad hit.  Garrus doesn't see it, only knows it happened because James is pulling her roughly into cover.  He watches, registers the events intellectually, but otherwise doesn't react. His nerve endings are so fried right now they apparently aren't picking up Shepard's injuries either.  

That's... probably not good, actually.

"Shepard." He's standing in front of the mech, Shepard about to disappear into the turbulent waves and he can't quite piece together the moments preceding this point.  Adrenaline spikes and clears his head for a second, and the tattered remains of what he was about to say disappear.  "Just... come back."

Her eyes soften and then she's gone.

If he tries, he can recall bits and pieces of what happens next.  Reapers.  Lots of them, an endless stream trying to wear the three of them out while they try to buy Shepard time to do... something.  The specifics escape him, but it's important.  At some point, James manhandles him into cover.  Might even set up his sniper rifle for him and tells him to stay put and just "shoot anything that moves, comprehendes?" because if nothing else, at least he can still aim.  

(It reminds him of his stimmed out final days on Omega, waiting to die until Shepard showed up and saved his sorry ass.)

The one thing that stands out, crystal clear, is a pain so intense it blots everything else out.

His vision whites out and he may stop breathing.  He was barely vertical before, but he writhes on the ground in agony.  It radiates from his right hand outward, overshadowing every other sensation.  And as he chokes, as he cries out wordlessly and drowns in this singular pain, two thoughts make it through.  

Shepard's in trouble.

It's indoctrination but it's not.

And then he blacks out.

\- - - -

He wakes up and at first the sense of déjà vu overwhelms him.  He's worried it's the Citadel hospital again, and it takes an embarrassingly long time for his drug addled brain to realize it's not.  No, it's very distinctly the _Normandy's_ medbay, but it takes Chakwas' soothing voice to calm him down.

Words wash over him but he can't pick them out.  Instead he lets them lull him back to sleep.

\- - - -

The next time he comes to, his head is significantly clearer.  He's not dizzy or groggy, and he can actually _think_.  Which also happens to mean the painkillers have worn off.  Every injury he gained on the last mission is making itself known. All vying for his attention, he finds he needs to catalog his body piece by piece to make sense of it all.

He's interrupted halfway through by Shepard's voice.

"You tore the stitching they'd used to patch you up, so I bet that hurts like a bitch."

Garrus' head snaps in the direction of her voice.  He winces as the sudden movement aggravates his sore neck.  Pushing himself up, he tries for humor.  "This is why I hate human ships.  Exam tables not designed for those of us with cowls." To her credit, Chakwas tries damn hard to keep him comfortable.  But he's been out for hours at an angle that's not ideal and his neck is definitely letting him know it.

"You okay?" Concern darkens Shepard's face for a moment, and yeah, he winces at that too.  

He shrugs. "Still alive."  Though he sighs and admits, "Barely, but hey, a win's a win."  

"Garrus," she snaps.  There's not a whole lot of bite to it, though.  If anything, it's worry that's motivating her.  "Don't lie to me like that again.  Chakwas said you had enough meds in you to tranq a rabid varren.  I need to know when you're not okay.  Fuck, the only reason I even let you on that mission is because I didn't want you out of my sight."  Then under her breath, probably not meant for him to hear, she grits out, "Stupid, I know."

It takes him a minute to appraise her, to see the lines under her eyes and the overall disheveled state of her appearance.  Honestly, it looks like-

"You've been here the whole time?  Since we got back?"

Her eyes flit away for a second before meeting his.  "Yeah."

He waits, but there's no more information forthcoming.  Subvocals give voice to his rising anger - only kept at bay for the moment because he has yet to confirm his suspicions - and he measures out the words carefully as he asks, "Shepard, are you injured?"

She looks the model of innocence as she echoes his own words back to him. "Still alive, aren't I?"

Garrus shakes his head and grunts in annoyance.  "We really need to raise the bar on that."

"Yeah, probably." She hops down from the exam table she's been sitting on and stretches a bit.  "You wanna get out of here?"

"Are we allowed?"

"Out of the room? Most likely.  Off the ship?  Not so much."

"Chakwas pulling rank?" he asks wryly.  As much as he hates doctors fussing over him, he knows Shepard hates being grounded about ten times more.

"Yes, the bastard," she pouts.  He's seen her face blazing with righteous fury and fiery determination.  A pout should _not_ be adorable on her.  "Pulled rank on me for the first time _ever_ so I'm gonna have to actually _try_ to get better."  

Garrus extends his senses to the mark on his hand.  Tries to pick through the pieces of information he's getting about Shepard. Nothing terrible, nothing that even really registers as pain.  Maybe she's got some aches and bruises, but it's below the threshold she would care about. So what's he missing?

"You don't seem to be in bad shape."  

"That," she says, dragging out the word as she walks her hand along the exam table behind her, "requires a longer conversation."  She smiles at him, toothy and completely human.  "I was thinking since our last jailbreak was so successful, we should orchestrate another one."

He slides off his own exam bench and crosses his arms.  "I don't know, Shepard.  One of these days our renegade ways will catch up to us.  Wouldn't want to be put in the brig for avoiding doctor's orders."

"Then we'll just have to not get caught on the way out."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No idea how medigel really works, but I'm assuming their's some pain killers in there. And we're gonna pretend they're super strong. Because.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not much to say for this one. Just these two idiots working their shit out some more. I still wouldn't say it's fixed, but they're almost there. (Now I just have to shatter that with the end of ME3...)
> 
> Thanks to [mordinette](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Mordinette/pseuds/Mordinette) as always for being an awesome beta reader :)

They get EDI to tell them where the doctor is - apparently she's in a vid chat demanding more medical supplies from the Alliance, giving them the perfect window to escape - and split up.  Shepard, who insists that she's the less injured one, sends him up to her quarters.  (She says it so forcefully that there's no room to argue, no opportunity to suggest that maybe he'd be better off in the battery.) She raids the Mess Hall for some decent rations.

Alone, Garrus exits the elevator and hesitates at the door.  He's a little more present at the moment, and it only now hits him what's happening.  

* * *

 

This, whatever it is that he and Shepard are dancing around, is a big deal.  Yes, they were in a relationship before.  (One that may have never technically ended.)  But it was established as a means for stress relief. Two friends getting together because of mutual respect and interest.  Now, if they start something (or re-start or continue, he's not even sure anymore), it's with the mutual understanding of just where their _compatibility_ stems from.

They still need to talk about expectations.  Goals. All the relationship crap that he knows _he_ doesn't have any experience with.  Sounds like Shepard doesn't either.  

Basically, they're screwed.

But there's no reason to stand in the doorway moping about it.  Ignoring his apprehension, he makes his way to the bed.  Before he can decide if it'd be intrusive to use it, the door _whooshes_ open.  

"Slim pickings from the Mess.  Hope you like dextro-paste because that's all we got."  She tosses it over to him and then starts tearing into her own food. Although not in paste form, it doesn't look any more appealing.  Since the war started in earnest, most of what they've been able to get a hold of are military rations.  Dehydrated food and powdered nutrients or calorie rich paste.

All god awful.

Shepard hasn't indicated that she finds his presence by her bed unusual, so he takes that as permission.

He groans as he more or less collapses into Shepard's bed, jostling the pillows around to support his back.  "I really shouldn't have gone on that mission," he grumps as he tries to avoid putting pressure on the more tender spots.  Finally settled, Garrus starts eating his lackluster meal of 'meat-flavored gelatinous high density dextro paste.'  Ugh.

"You're right." Shepard's staring at him intently, her own meal forgotten.  

"Huh?"

"You shouldn't have been on that mission.  I shouldn't have let you.  I knew you were in bad shape but I let you come."  She runs her hands through her hair and glares at him when he clears his throat to reply.  "I tried to justify it by bringing Vega, but you _still_ got hurt.  I shouldn't have let my personal feelings get in the way."  Now she buries her face in her hands, muffling her next words so he can barely hear them.  "God, I am such a fucking mess."

"Shepard." He waits until she's looking at him, eyes big and watery.  "I genuinely thought I could handle it.  It's not your fault-"

"I'm commander of this ship.  I need to do a better job at distancing myself from mission critical decisions. We both talked ourselves into thinking you'd be fine, and that's a mistake I can't afford to make.  Not with you, not with any member of my crew.  I'm responsible for you.  And yeah, I can't exactly keep you guys out of harm’s way. That's impossible and I get that. But I can minimize risks when possible. I should've just put my foot down and told you to stay here, instead of dragging you along because I... because..."  Her mouth snaps shut and she turns away, a scowl overtaking her features.

Garrus isn't sure if he should press the matter, but the two of them have danced around how they need to be more honest with each other.  So he pushes, gently of course, and asks, "Because...?"

At first he thinks she'll ignore him and he won't get an answer.  Which is fine, in all honesty, because he's not going to force her into opening up more than she's ready to.  But Shepard chews her lips for a moment before the dam bursts and she's nearly yelling, "Because I didn't want you out of my sight!  You were gone, you almost _died_ and I... I needed you _nearby_.  And it's completely childish!  Because me keeping you by my side put you in _even more danger_.  I..." She swallows thickly and looks just left of him with unfocused eyes.  "I'm sorry."

"It's okay." He feels the need to comfort her like a physical weight.  To deflect some of the blame, because yes, she's the commander and could've ordered him to stay, but he _wanted_ and _needed_ to go just as badly as she apparently wanted him there.  "I really did think I could handle it."  He sees her glower at him, no doubt questioning what the hell he was doing with the medi-gel, so he cuts her off, "That was just to take the edge off."

Maybe she doesn't quite believe him - he's not completely sure it's true, the moment when he made the decision too blurred around the edges to really know - but she smiles wryly. "We might need to reevaluate what you think 'handling it' looks like."

His subvocals trill and then he snorts to give her an audible human equivalent.  "You might be right."

They both relax after that, eating their meals (Spirits, he misses food he can actually chew) as Shepard recounts what happened under the waves.  And honestly, it's terrifying to learn what Leviathan is and how the Reapers first came to be.  It's good to know - he would've always wondered - but the gravity of the Leviathan arrogance and the enormity of its effects are staggering.

He sits in silence for a moment as he digests what Shepard's told him.  "I mean," he starts, "Technically, the Reapers _are_ preserving life, in their own sick way. Killing the species that are too intelligent, that might create synthetic life that'll wipe them all out..."

Shepard grimaces and spits out, "Fuck them for deciding this is the only way, though."

"Well, yes, obviously fuck them."  Like he was _really_ siding with the Reapers, but he understands her anger.  "I'm just saying, from an outside viewpoint, you can see the way their logic lead them to the conclusion it did."  He squirts the last of his dextro paste into his mouth and then tosses the container on the night stand, jaw flexing as he tries to swallow without tasting the damn thing.  "Doesn't mean I don't wish the Leviathan had had the foresight to foresee this possibility and not fucked up so massively."

She grunts assent and finishes telling him what happened.  His blood runs cold when he hears how the Leviathan tried to enslave Shepard just like it had the people on that asteroid.  

"So what you're saying is... assuming we deal with this whole Reaper situation, we'll have to deal with these Leviathan trying to reclaim their position as 'top apex predator.'"

"Dude," she gripes and makes a face, "one problem at a time."  She moves from her position at the edge of the couch to the edge of the bed.  He wonders why she's forcing so much space between them, but then she pulls off her boots and puts her feet onto the bed and angles them towards him.  The tips of her toes could brush against his leg if she wanted to.  

Completely oblivious to the proximity, she turns serious and asks, "What the fuck happened topside while I was under?  I knew you were a bit off, but I get back up there and James tells me you've fucking passed out?  It was a goddamned mess.  I was fucking kidding when I said James would have to carry you, and then I get back and EDI has to carry me to the shuttle because _I_ can barely stand.  And then James has you, completely out of it, over his back.  Gotta say, Vakarian, not a pleasant sight to come back to."

"Well, that's moderately embarrassing," he mutters under his breath.  Looks like he owes Vega a drink or two as thanks.  "I don't really know what-  Wait, why did EDI have to carry you?"

She shrugs, toes tickling his leg through the light material of his civvies.  "Whatever Vulcan mind meld the Leviathan was doing kinda drained me.  I could barely walk or stand, so she helped since you and Vega were otherwise indisposed. Plus I had a massive headache." She gives him a look.  "Why do you think I was in the medbay?  Chakwas was keeping me for observation.  Though the headache I'm pretty sure was from _you_ , since that's gone now..."  

"Oh, uh, sorry-"

But she just shrugs dismissively so he lets it drop.  "So, what happened back there?"

If he thinks back to it, it's all murky.  The medi-gel hadn't just dulled his own pain but also his sense of what was going on around him. He remembers Shepard disappearing into the sea.  Shooting, lots of shooting.  Vega shouting at him, but the words (if he ever heard them) are lost.  The only thing left that's in any way distinct is the blinding pain that had radiated out from his right hand.  

"My mark hurt."

Shepard's eyebrows go up and she tilts her head slightly in question.  "Your mark hurt?  I thought that only happened if _I_ got hurt...  And that it was on scale with _how badly_ I was hurt.  Because yeah, I was knocked around a bit, but I wasn't passed out in the middle of a fire fight bad."

"Yes," he agrees. "It wasn't like when you're injured.  It was more like..."  Garrus grasps for the right words, the right comparison.  And then he stops dead, because he realizes what it reminded him of. It felt similar to the dull red itch that he's come to associate with indoctrination.  It wasn't the same, not by a long shot.  Where that feeling always burned along his veins, this froze them. And it was leaps and bounds more intense.  The pain was on par with getting hit in the face with that rocket back on Omega, overwhelming and _everywhere_. And that final thought he’d grasped at before going under.  That confidence that it was but wasn't indoctrination.

And, most relevant to his current situation, he's never mentioned indoctrination to Shepard before.

"Garrus," she warns, voice dipping into that Commander tone she saves for right before she needs to bust heads.  "What are you not telling me?"

"Uhm..." The syllable buys him no time, but he drags it out anyway.  "A lot?"  

She exhales and seems to deflate.  More secrets, more things he's kept hidden.  Off to a great start, Vakarian.  "You've obviously figured something out, so spill."

"You're not going to like this."

"Well, my home planet is currently being burned to the ground as we speak.  I don't like a whole lot of things right now."

"Yeah, I know the feeling."  He avoids looking at her as he continues.  "I felt... something.  When you were down there.  Something I've sort of felt before, though different."  He only chances a couple glances at her, but he can tell she's listening.  That she's giving him a chance to explain himself.  

So he does.  He takes the plunge and details everything he and Liara have discussed.  About the marks and indoctrination, about looking over her missions and decisions and behavior and trying to see if there's anything behind it.  That they never came to a definite conclusion either way, but in light of what Javik told him about the purpose of the marks as a warning system against indoctrination, it seems like more and more of a possibility.

When he stops, Shepard's eyes are empty and her face expressionless.  "You think I might be indoctrinated?" she says with nothing behind it to help him gauge how she feels about that.  

"We weren't sure, but I, uh... I don't think you are.  Not after what happened with the Leviathan.  It was similar to what I sometimes feel, but different.  And not just in _how_ but in _how much_.  I blacked out because the pain, even with all the medi-gel in my system, was too intense."

Shepard grits her teeth at that but says nothing.

"I think," he continues, "that the difference in _how_ was a Leviathan versus Reaper thing.  But I think the _how much_ was because you were actively under its control for a moment there. You said it had pulled you under, that it was trying to brainwash you like those others at the mine."  He waits for her to nod.  "So I think if you were _really_ under Reaper control, I'd feel it all the time and it wouldn't be something I could ignore."

"So I'm what, not indoctrinated but... a candidate?  What does that even _mean_?" she snaps.  

"I'm not exactly an expert here, Shepard.  But, I think maybe it means you're not fully indoctrinated, but that it's starting. That it's slowly trying to get a foothold so it-"

"Why didn't you bring this up before?  I could've been compromised this whole time and you didn't think it was worth _telling_ me?"

Garrus knows damn well this is a decision he'll have to defend.  "I couldn't explain to you without revealing the marks, so I kept it quiet.  I talked to Liara because it _was_ dangerous, something someone other than me needed to know about.  And if together we thought it was necessary, we would've told more.  But everything we looked at, all the evidence we had, was inconclusive at best."

She jumps off the bed and starts pacing, anger and frustration making it impossible for her to sit still.  He waits, lets her digest that and everything else.  It's a lot.  Abruptly, she stops and rounds on him.

"Okay, I get why you didn't say anything.  You didn't know what it was, you didn't want to bring it up if it was nothing, and you didn't want to talk about the marks.  Fine.  I can _understand_ that.  And we haven't really gotten a chance to talk about where things stand since we got interrupted by this mission, so I'm going to let it slide that you didn't bring up this indoctrination stuff before now.  I'm even going to give you a free pass and _assume_ you would've told me.  But seriously, Garrus, we gotta stop fucking things up like this.  Relationships are built on _trust_ -"

"I've never lied to you, Shepard-"

"Lying by omission is still kinda lying, Garrus.  I have to be able to _trust you_."  Her eyes plead with him to understand.  "And I know that it goes both ways.  That you gotta be able to trust _me_ and I haven't handled things all that well. You're trying to trust me to be open and emotionally stable and rational about all this.  And yeah, up to now I maybe haven't lived up to that.  I get it.  I'm working on it, I swear I am, and I'm trying to do better.

"But you gotta give me something here, Garrus.  You gotta not hold back big things like this.  I need...  I need you to be honest with me.  Everything's gotta be out on the table.  I know about the mark.  I know about the indoctrination stuff now.  Is there...  Is there anything else you're holding back?"  

She swallows hard and looks at him.  She's begging him with her eyes to tell her no or yes but whatever it is, she just needs it to be the truth.  

The answer is of course yes. Yes, he's still holding something back. This one thing that he's kept to himself (hell, he's spent a damn good amount of time keeping it _from_ himself too), and now he considers if he wants to give up this last part.  This one last thing he's buried and hidden deep.  Not because he's scared of how she's going to react (okay, that's a lie, he's a little scared of that), but mostly just to shield himself.  This is a new discovery, one he's guarded closely, and putting it out there is terrifying.  Because this would be him giving her _everything_.  This is him giving her the power to destroy him, utterly and completely.

But... but hiding it in the face of what she's asking...  He can't do that.  

Consequences be damned, he answers her truthfully.

"There's... something else."

Shepard's expression hardens like she's bracing for bad news.  Probably because she can sense his unease, see the stiffness that's snuck into his posture and hear the tremor in his voice.  She grits out a harsh, "What?" like the answer to this question is going to make her hate him.

And it might, he realizes.

"I uh... I kinda... I never told you but I uh..."  He stutters until there's nothing left but to say it, no more words to delay the inevitable.  "I love you."

Of all the ways he imagined confessing that to someone, this was not it.  It should've been something whispered to his soulmate as they drifted off to sleep.  It should've been said with a smile and a laugh, both of them acknowledging something they already knew but hadn't said out loud yet.  It should've been a million things but a forced confession that could potentially make him lose her.  

Fucked up galaxy, isn't it?

She'll be terrified it's for the wrong reasons.  Obligation to what some tattoo told him to think since he was a child.  Not because it's true.  Because she's beautiful and strong and fierce and flawed but better because of those flaws and the only one who's ever made him feel like he's maybe not the screw up he always thought he was and that he'll never be able to do anything to deserve her because no one out there deserves her and he probably should've told her that back when this started, should've done a lot of things, really, but-

Shepard rushes over and practically throws herself on him, arms around his neck and pulling him into a kiss.  With her lips on him, it effectively stops the babbling he didn't even realize he was doing.  Panic rises until it's replaced with relief and then bliss.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I don't know if I've said this recently, but I'm going to re-iterate it. I'm not exactly following the ME3 timeline with this. I'm moving things around to work with the narrative, which is how Tali's been on board for so long and how I'm only just now getting to Rannoch. Oh well ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> This is following some advise from the comments saying that the communication they've built is great, but it's all Shepard talking and dictating terms. So now Garrus'll get a chance to say his piece and hopefully it works.

For the next few missions, Garrus is genuinely too tired and hurt to even consider tagging along.  The difference is this time, he's upfront about his limitations and listens to the good doctor's advice on the matter.

Though even if she would clear him with a clean bill of health, he doubts it would matter.  Shepard watches him like a hawk and exploits their bond to monitor his recovery.  He's always had a tendency to downplay his injuries, but now he finds every twitch and grimace carefully noted and assumed to be the worst unless he owns up to it.  

It's a little disconcerting, having someone so openly care for him.  He hasn't really had that since his mother.

So to keep the peace, he stays on the ship.  Does his work in the Battery.  And when it gets dull, he amuses himself with visits to Joker and James (the only two left willing to put up with his cabin fever).  Oh, and he judiciously does his PT.  A complete first for him.

He usually does his stretches and exercises before bed, putting them off as long as possible until there's no reasonable excuse left to occupy his time with.  He's somehow managed to work a fourteen hour shift (so he gets marginally distracted when he's trying to calibrate the guns and get them to peak efficiency and maybe loses track of time, so what?) and can't be bothered with keeping his eyes open another minute.

About to climb into bed, a foot comes out and stops him.  

"You do your stretches?" Shepard asks sleepily.

Garrus looks down at the foot firmly placed against his abdomen.  It might appear half limp, but he's ninety percent sure she could still kick him off the bed without a moment's notice.  

"No."

"Mkay."  And he thinks he's gotten away with it, until she adds, "Then go sleep on the couch."

"You can't be serious," he sputters.  He feels the slight way her leg tenses, bracing to exert itself.  "You're serious."  

He's too mentally exhausted to argue, so he grabs a pillow and moves to the couch without complaint.  It's a nice couch.  Soft cushions but firm support.  Hell, he's fallen asleep on it before.  But now he tosses and turns and can't quite get comfortable because there's this missing piece of the equation.  

With a huff, he kicks off the couch and quickly goes through his exercises in the dim light of the fish tank.  In record time, he finishes and climbs into bed.  This time he's not stopped.  Instead, Shepard moves over and gives up her warm spot.  As he settles in, she snuggles up next to him.

"Knew you'd see it my way," she breathes against his chest.  

"You hardly gave me a choice.  You held the bed for ransom."

"You've got the couch and your own bed."  

"Yeah, but only one of them has you."

"You smooth talker, you."

\- - - -

It grates on his nerves a bit to be off of ground missions, but he resigned himself to it.  The only time it actually irks him is Rannoch.  He wants to be there for Shepard, for Tali, maybe even a little for Legion.  But there's a part of him that knows better.  Because the Crucible's almost done, and he needs to be prepared for _that_  fight.  And he will _not_  let Shepard walk into that alone.

The comm link is open and he patches in, listens to the mission as he works.  It's either that or pester Joker for updates.  

There's a buzzing in his hand, but like a fool, he ignores it.  Until static and gunfire blare over the comm.  

_"It's a live Reaper!"_

Fuck.

He listens to the feed as he amps up the guns and hopes they're strong enough to take out an honest to god _Reaper_.  The pain in his hand flares up, a hot spot around the mark.  A few weeks ago it would've worried him, but in the wake of the Leviathan, he knows just how deep that pain can truly go.  It's an annoyance that's easily ignored, one that reminds him, if nothing else, that _Shepard is **not** indoctrinated._

And he knows the instant they've succeeded in killing the damn thing, because the pain fades and his talons reflexively relax.  He takes in a deep breath and lets it out.  Thank the Spirits, looks like they'll live to fight another day.

He taps out a message to Shepard, simply because he needs something to _do_.  Even in the relief he feels, he's antsy from un-spent energy and worry.  

_**Garrus:** Look at the type of trouble you get into when I'm not there to watch your six._

Almost instantly, he receives a ping in reply.

_**Shepard:** Look at how efficiently I can kill a Reaper without having to watch out for your sorry ass._

_**Garrus:** You had a whole month without me and as far as I know you didn't take out any Reapers.  Seems like your Reaper kill count is a lot higher with me around than not._

_**Shepard:** I want you to know that I'm flipping you off right now._

_**Garrus:** Noted._

He catches himself smiling and snorts a laugh.  Strange how he can find anything good in this shitstorm of a war, yet here he is.  Happier than he's been in... well, he doesn't really want to look too closely at that, because it would probably be too depressing to actually quantify the months, if not years, of unease he's lived when it comes to Shepard.

The pieces have been slowly falling into place as he and Shepard adjust to their new-found trust.  Everything Javik said about the marks being there as a warning system.  It's not that Garrus didn't believe him, but he didn't quite understand how much it would _change_  things.  He's been getting subtle input from Shepard for years through their bond, seemingly without any control and certainly without any knowledge on her part.

Now that they're both _aware_  of the marks, they can tap into it.  They can feed each other encouragement or affection merely by _thinking_  it.  And he's slept better at night knowing that if Shepard were ever to succumb to indoctrination, _he would know_.  He can prevent it, he can keep her safe and whole and _her_.  If nothing else, that makes it all worthwhile.

\- - - -

That night, he sneaks up while Shepard's showering off the grime of the mission and joins her under the hot spray.  She doesn't startle as he wraps his arms around her and nuzzles her neck, only leans into the embrace.  

"Not gonna lie, I like having you on missions with me, but this is a nice consolation prize."

"In that case."  He starts to pull back and she grunts in protest.  "I can't give you an incentive to leave me behind-"

"Get your ass healthy and I'll take you anywhere, you fucking adrenaline junkie.  Just get back here."

Garrus relents and drips back in to kiss along her jawline.  "Fine, but only because I love you."

He says it freely now, and every time he feels the minute way her body tenses before it melts.  He only reacts to the latter, but notes that the idea of him loving her still makes her anxious.  Whether it's self-doubt or doubt in him, he's unsure, but what he does know is he's going to go out of his way to make her believe it.

\- - - -

The next time they're on the Citadel (their last day on the Citadel, considering everything), he gets inspiration looking up at the vehicles buzzing about.  On a whim, he tells Shepard where to meet him and goes to grab everything he needs.

He's almost done packing when Shepard's voice greets him.

"Something on your mind?"

Going for nonchalant, he shrugs.  "Thought you could use a break from being Commander Shepard for a bit."

"What'd you have in mind?"

He gestures to the car.  "Hop in."

They make a beeline for the Presidium.  He cruises around for a minute until he finds the perfect spot.  It's beautiful, like he always imagined it would be, but he barely notices.  The shooting contest is fun, the perfect distraction for his rapidly beating heart.  He's planned this out for a while, and he needs to calm down before his nerves get to him.

(And it says something about him, doesn't it, that he's more nervous about a heart to heart with Shepard than squaring off with Cerberus?)

"So what's King of the Bottle Shooters going to do to celebrate his title?"

When she turns around to look at him, she sees him on one knee.  There's no immediate recognition of the pose there, which throws him off briefly, but he recovers quickly.  

"Shepard, I uh, I hope I'm doing this right, but this is what the vids showed when I looked up human customs-"

Understanding dawns on her and she swallows thickly.  "Garrus-"

He ignores the pleading, warning note in her voice.  "Look, Shepard, I know you're worried.  Scared.  Terrified.  Take your pick.  And I want you to know that I love you.  That I care about _you_.  And no, I can't pinpoint when that feeling started.  If it was before or after I saw that you were my soulmate.  

"But," he says firmly, hopes the assertive confidence of his tone will make her not just listen but _hear_  what he's telling her.  "But let me tell you what else I know.  I love you for _you_.  And not just the good parts like your intelligence and courage and loyalty and how you're like a force of nature in a fight.  But the bad parts too.  The temper and the terrible driving and the cringe worthy dancing and how loudly you snore-"

"I do _not_  snore-"

"You do.  And I love how adorable you are when you do it.  But that's not the point.  I care about you and not because some mark tells me I'm supposed to.  I should've said this a while ago, when I first showed you my hand, but I didn't think you'd believe me.  Now, honestly, I don't care if you believe me or not, because I need you to _know_.  

"I've loved you for a while, even if I can't remember when I first noticed it.  And when I look at how deeply that love has rooted itself in my life, my _soul_ , I know that I would've loved you no matter what.  Even if I'd never found out about your mark, even if some bizarre Prothean mating program hadn't paired us up, there's no way I would've been able to help falling for you.

"And I'm willing to wait until you truly believe every word that I'm saying.  I'll say it every day if I have to.  Because you're it for me, Shepard.  There's nothing, no one else out there that I could possibly want or need or love more than you.  Plain and simple.  I’m not going anywhere.  

"So would you, Jane Shepard, do me the honor of becoming Queen of the Bottle Shooters?"

There are tears in her eyes, which he expected.  But they blot out everything else, make it impossible to read her.  "I will marry you on one condition, Garrus Vakarian."

Without a second's hesitation, he says, "Anything."

She falls to her knees and rests her hands on each of his shoulders.  The intensity of her gaze, even as she tries not to cry, makes him hold his breath.  "We are going to survive, you hear me?  We're going to beat the Reapers and _survive_.  And then I'll marry you."

"So... that's a yes?"

"Is that a... Jesus, Vakarian, of course it's a yes!"  She pulls him into a kiss, fierce and possessive.  Her hands snake around his waist and grip him tight.  Damn, maybe wearing the armor was a poor choice because he desperately longs to _feel_  her arms around him.  She leans her forehead against his and whispers, "I love you, too.  Fuck, I've loved you for so long it hurt-"

"Shh, Shepard.  It's alright.  I understand.  Don't worry about it."

"Okay," she breathes.  Nods and blinks away more tears.  "Okay."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The plan is to have one more final chapter/epilogue to wrap things up and take things to the end of ME3 ^-^
> 
> For those of you still concerned, I'm *not* going tragic with the ending, but it's not gong to be super happy butterfly and rainbows either.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's... it's done??? like, i don't even know what to say... *fans self* wow... okay, so thank you to everyone who's stuck with me through this story, who's commented or left kudos or just read along. seriously, your support means a lot guys <3 
> 
> thank you to [mordinette](http://archiveofourown.org/users/mordinette) for beta-reading for me and helping me out immensely as i've worked on this project ^-^
> 
> and final reminder you guys can find me on [tumblr](http://jhoomwrites.tumblr.com) if you wanna chat or check out my other ME stories

There's a part of him that never considered the fact that they might fail.  Yeah, there were times he thought they were done for.  But that was back in the days of Saren and the Collectors.  Former commanders coming back from the dead and surviving a suicide mission tend to alter your perception of what's possible.  So if he's being honest with himself, it hadn't occurred to him that they wouldn't make it out of this alive.  

Maybe he believes too much in Shepard.  Maybe he's just foolish.

It's not until he watches her walk away from him, right back into the thick of destruction as they push on to the Crucible, that doubt finally settles in.  

_He might not see her again.  They might fail._

After everything, it kills him to see her leave.  Because for the first time, he truly doesn't know if she'll come back.  

Liara has to physically drag him onto the ship and manhandle him to the medbay.  Not because he resists, but simply because he's forgotten how to put one foot in front of the other.  He's numb to the world around him as Chakwas checks his arm (completely limp at his side) or the gash bleeding into his eye.  Instead he centers his focus on his right hand, feeling for every minute change.  Anything that would—

There's a flare of pain, sharp and red-hot.  Less than Alchera, if he had to guess, but worse than he's felt in some time.  He tries to bolt off the bed, but he feels arms keeping him in place.  They called James in at some point and if Garrus were more cognizant, more _there_ , he'd be embarrassed by how little effort it takes to restrain him.  In his panic, he may even snarl and claw at the younger man, but it does nothing to prevent him from being pushed down on the exam bed.

"I know, Scars.  Believe me, I know.  But nothing we can do for Lola but sit tight and wait it out."

He follows that pain, waits for it to fall into the background but it doesn't.  He knows Shepard has a high threshold for pain, but it's not a matter if she can take it.  He's much more concerned that it isn't going down.  It remains steady and ever present, beyond what he's capable of ignoring.

And then it's about a hundred times worse.  The physical injuries denoted by the earlier agony blends into the background as the threat of indoctrination nearly knocks him out.  He clutches his right hand in his left, talons digging into the plates around his mark in a blind attempt to shift his focus to any lesser pain.  At some point he wishes he could cut the damn limb off because that would surely hurt less.  

Unaware of his own screaming, his flailing and desperate subvocals, Garrus is ignorant of the hands that grip him tight and strap him down.  Somewhere in the distance, he's sure he hears people shouting over him.  Then there's the telltale prick of a syringe, injecting liquid cold into his veins.  He's out soon after that.

\- - - -

Consciousness comes back to him in waves.  

The first wave brings sound.  Whispers that gradually get louder, words slowly taking shape.  They've crashed and the comm system's down.  The relays might be down too, but that's a moot point if they can't get in the air.

The second wave is sight.  Bright lights and blurred images that slowly form into a coherent picture of the medbay.  Soon he's able to give the shapes moving around him names.  Doctor Chakwas.  Liara.  Tali.  Vega.

Scent and taste come back to him and get pushed aside.  His nose plates are bruised and there's nothing to smell but gauze and medi-gel.  Not much to taste, either, his tongue all cottony and dry.

Finally the doctor lessens his meds enough that he can _feel_.  He takes inventory of the aches and injuries, all ones he's well aware of, and promptly dismisses them.  Because the only thing that matters is that square inch of skin on his right hand.  

When he's given the okay for visitors - now that he's sitting up and somewhat able to talk around his swollen tongue - Liara's the first one.  She takes a seat beside him, reaches out for his hand but hesitates, eyes pleading.  

"Did she make it?"

He pulls back the blankets to show his mark, still bright red, blue, and purple.  The edges were faded when he first looked, but the color's coming back to chase away the gray.  "Yes," he croaks.  Swallows to clear his throat and tries again.  "She's alive."

Liara breathes out and allows herself a small, pleased smile, before she tenses up.  She takes his hand gingerly, rubbing soothing lines along his talons as she whispers, "Is she...?"

"No," he interrupts.  "She's not indoctrinated."

"Oh, thank the Goddess."  She looks like she could cry, which he understands.  He's had the better part of the morning (afternoon? evening? no one tells him the time anymore) to adjust to the news.

Shepard's alive.  He's going to get off this backwater planet and get back to her.  And then once things settle down, once they've had the chance to recover and the galaxy has time to right itself again, they're going to get married.

They did it. 

\- - - -

Garrus snuggles closer to Shepard, mindful not to squeeze too hard along her ribs.  The doctors have officially declared them healed, but Shepard says they’re full of shit since they’re still tender and she doesn’t feel anywhere near as strong as she’s used to.  In moments like these, it’s difficult for him to restrain himself, in the darkness that blankets them.  She was missing for so long, and he longs to breath her in and remind himself that she’s _here_ and _alive_  despite everything.

She sighs deeply and snuggles closer into his heat, pulling his arm over her chest and squeezing _firmly_.  And he thinks maybe she needs remind herself the same.

Sleep eludes him, but that’s not unusual.  Since the Reapers fell, sleep has been hard to come by.  Strange how he found more fitful rest when the galaxy was about to end, but now it’s the unfamiliarity of _peace_  that keeps him up late into the night.  He almost doesn’t know what to do with himself.  He can fight, he can strategize, he can kill.  Give him a hammer and he’s lost.

But Shepard, in the midst of recovering from the state they’d found her in after the Crucible, passes out almost as soon as her head hits the pillow.  He doesn’t blame her - her presence has been felt everywhere, and she’s in turn felt the need to _be_ everywhere.  To show that she _survived_  and she stands _with them_  as they all work to rebuild the world.

Today seems to be an exception to the rule.  A few minutes (or hours, he has no point of reference in the quiet of their room) pass before she sleepily mutters, “I’m glad I came back.”

He stiffens briefly before he can force himself to relax.  He buries his face in her hair, citrusy sweet from her shampoo, and whispers, “Me too.”

“Tickles,” she grunts and cranes her neck away from his mandibles.  “Worried I wouldn’t see you again,” she says around a yawn.  “Worried I’d save everyone but I’d lose any chance of saving myself in the process.”

 _You and me both_.  But there’s no point in voicing the worry that had plagued him for weeks, both before and after the Reapers fell.  Up until the moment the _Normandy’s_ comm systems were repaired and the first message they received from the fleet was _< The Reapers are defeated.  The Crucible worked.  Jane Shepard is in critical but stable condition.>_

Instead he says, “Maybe the galaxy realized it owed you one.”

“Damn galaxy.  Better learn to take care of itself from here on it.”  And although she might appear awake, Garrus isn’t entirely convinced she isn’t sleep talking.  

“Agreed.  And if it can’t, it doesn’t matter.  Cuz you and me?  We’re retired as of now.”

“Retired, huh?  I like the sound of that.”  She shifts and with monumental effort loosens the blankets.  She shimmies around until they’re facing each other, nestling in close by his cowl.  “Tell me more,” she breathes against his plates.

And he does.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please note that the third section (starting with "Garrus snuggles closer..." was *not* beta-read so any mistakes are my own


End file.
